We’ve been back to school a grand total of seven days and I already think this school year might kill me. If the daily taxi services I provide don’t bring me to a caffeine overdose, I might drown under the sea of paper the children’s backpacks spew at me each afternoon. I mourn for the trees who lost their lives so I could be notified of all the fundraising crap I will be spending my money on this year.
I’ve always relied on my phone’s calendar to keep me on track. However, the new level of insanity to which my family is aspiring may be just too much for the poor little thing. I’m thinking that I might need my own war room, complete with wall maps, 3-D calendars with color coding and a running budget sheet.
I like to think that I’m organized. I like to think that I’m in control. I like to think that my middle-aged brain can keep track of my children and husband and their varying chores, tasks, activities and jobs. (I mean, for the love of all that is good and holy, there are only three of them). But it seems that I like to think a lot of things that just are not so. I’ve already missed a PTA meeting and will have to feed the children another night of left-overs in order to make the first meet-the-teacher night of the 2015-2016 schedule. Yes, I’ve already met all the teachers and theoretically, don’t need to go meet them again. But I’ve not met them as they relate to the second child.
I introduce my children as Night and Day, a fitting description that not only illustrates the vast differences between them, but also their general outlook on life. Going from one to the other is like falling asleep with an old cat and waking up with a puppy. It’s a jarring experience for which you were unprepared. And though the puppy is adorable and full of energy, it immediately exhausts you and before you know it, you’re wishing for the barely-mobile cat, even though you sometimes woke up covered in scratches and found it staring at you with contempt, you knew what to expect.
Just today, I realized that there is not one single week night, for the entire school year, that we are scheduled to be home as a family. Not. One. Monday through Friday, we have at least one event scheduled every night. Some nights, there are two or three. I will have to rely on the kindness of friends and family to help me when I am over booked. If that fails, I suppose I could start stalking strangers who seem to be heading in the same direction.
I will also have to get about four more jobs to pay for these things. I think the grand total compares to the GDP of some small nations. Maybe for Christmas this year, they’ll get to continue to eat.
It’s not really surprising that one has already come home from school sick and the other spent a day sending me threatening text messages about the volatility of his stomach.
“But it’s picture day. Can’t you at least tamp down the vomit until after pictures?”
“That’s like two hours away.”
“Just don’t drink or eat until then. And try not to smell anything. You’ll be fine.”
Can we discuss having picture day on day six? Is this some sort of high school initiation for parents?
“Let’s see if you’re paying attention. Not only do you have to get the proper amount of single subject, college ruled notebooks in varying colors for easy identification, but be sure to read, review and sign the 11 pages of documents we’ve sent home, discussing how your child is in high school now and so we expect you to assure and guarantee that he is responsible and accountable for all of his actions. And while you’re sifting through all the paper, bleary-eyed and ink-stained, don’t forget to write a check to the photo company, who are so archaic they don’t offer a CD with any of the packages. And get your kid a hair cut, too.”
I don’t know about my kids, but I’ve already learned so much in these first two, abbreviated weeks. I’ve learned that bus schedules are essentially a suggestion. I’ve learned that having one child who is required to wear a uniform and one who is not is liking buying one child ice cream and the other a box of broken crayons. Not only did they not want the crayons in the first place, but the fact that they’re broken is just a metaphor for the state of their spirit. I’ve learned that parents get homework, too. And if you screw up, your kid pays for it (points off, daily and cumulatively, for missing school supplies? The school supply section is a dark and scary place in September.) It’s like the educational mafia.
I’ve also learned that I’m freaking tired. I don’t remember school being this hard when I did it. Shouldn’t I be getting better at this every year, instead of falling into a slow, excessive paper-laden, death spiral? When is graduation? Hell, when is five o’clock? Who am I kidding? I’ve still got kids to pick up. Pass the juice box.
If I don’t want my kids to have to figure out the best use for leftover spaghetti sauce, without left-over pasta, I need to step my game up. A mother’s best friend, during these harrowing times, is a crock-pot. My husband may hate the slow cooker and think everything that comes out of it tastes the same, but unless he wants to take over dinner responsibilities, he will eat it and smile or I will starve him into submission.
My kids love chicken soup and I love that I can find a use for all of my leftover vegetables. With a few minutes of prep, this recipe covers all the necessary food groups.
Slow Cooker Chicken Soup
1 lb. chicken, cooked and cut up (can be leftover)
1 large onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, crushed or diced
4-8 cups vegetables (we like carrots, broccoli, celery, etc. but spinach and kale are also excellent)
8 cups broth or boullion (I use Better than Bouillon)
1 or 2 tablespoons cooking oil (I often use bacon fat – don’t judge me)
salt and pepper, to taste
pasta or rice, optional (I cook it separate and let them pour soup over it, if desired)
grated cheese or hot sauce (optional toppings)
Saute onion, in 1/2 of the oil, in a large skillet, over medium high heat, until transparent. Lower heat to medium and add garlic. Cook just until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Move to the crockpot. Use the remaining oil to saute any vegetables you’re using that are NOT leftover. Leftover veggies can go right in the crockpot. Put the vegetables in the crockpot and add the chicken, broth and salt and pepper. Cook on low for up to eight hours. If you want to add rice or pasta directly to the pot, put it in the last hour for rice and half hour for pasta.
If it’s likely that women will get equal pay for equal work before you sit down to dinner again as a family, this is a dish that can be left in the pot, allowing hungry people to grab a ladle full or two, as needed.
Laurie Nigro, a mother of two, is passionate about her family, her community, and natural living. Laurie resides in downtown Riverhead and is co-founder of the River and Roots Community Garden on West Main Street in Riverhead.
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