Home Life Laurie Nigro Transformer Mom: from June Cleaver to Roseanne Barr at the speed...

Transformer Mom: from June Cleaver to Roseanne Barr at the speed of whine

On my day off this past week, I had intended to re-live my Suzy Homemaker days. I broke out my favorite apron, did a bunch of laundry, dishes and shopping and planned an awesome dinner. I pestered a friend for this recipe of his that sounded incredible. There was to be sautéing and reducing, volcano rice and bacon. But instead, there were tuna melts and raw carrot sticks. Because people suck and parenting is a thankless job.

We heat our home primarily with our wood stove. We generally go through about five or six cords of wood per winter. Since I prefer not to kill my entire family with carbon monoxide poisoning, I schedule a chimney sweep every year.

Perhaps I procrastinated in making my appointment this season, so I was not surprised when I had to wait a bit to get on the schedule. I was even understanding when they couldn’t accomodate me for the first one. And I didn’t even flip out when they canceled the second one. But when they postponed the third one for several hours and then informed me they weren’t going to make it after all, I started to get a bit peeved.

After all, my Suzy Homemaker meal relied on me being completely present by 4 p.m., the end of my chimney sweep window, so we could get back out of the house at 6 p.m. for ballet. Wondering if they were going to show up, and when that might be, made kitchen prep unpredictable.

And then, there was the attack of the children.

I swear, prior to delivering them from school, I was channeling June Cleaver. I was humming along to the Andrews Sisters and Ella Fitzgerald, wrapped tight in my apron, while hanging laundry and making beds. But as soon as they start speaking, it’s like June is but a distant memory and I have instead been possessed by Roseanne Barr.

The oldest has brilliant and creative ideas. I am in awe of his ingenuity. But when he starts coming up with Halloween plans that would require a Hollywood costume designer, and the corresponding budget, to produce, I have to draw the line. Perhaps there are alternatives.

When the big day was nearly upon us, I was scrambling to accomodate his wishes. Store after store denied me my just due. At my last hope, I was able to find what I thought was a suitable substitute. I put it on hold until I could have him present and then headed to school to retrieve them both.

When I got them in the car and excitedly told him of my find, his contemptuous look deflated me. My excitement turned to exhausted defeat, “Well, you can at least look at it. I asked them to hold it for me and it’s just rude not to go back.”

My choice did not impress him and after a few minutes of wandering aimlessly through the store, he found a terrifying mask and declared it to be perfect. Whatever. It was a mere $8 and at this point, I was just trying to pay and get the hell out the door before he decided it didn’t have that certain je ne sais quoi he required.

At last, we arrived home. I was still hopeful that my chimney would soon be all clean and shiny so I brushed aside the small setback at the Halloween store and started getting ready to make my culinary masterpiece. OK, it was really just a dinner that wouldn’t come out of the toaster oven or the microwave (entirely), but trying a new recipe on a weeknight is a little risqué and I was feeling daring and empowered.

Let’s not forget, I have another child. It was her turn to throw the wrench, not in the works, but right at my damn head. Let me give a little background here. I pick my children up from school every day. And every day I ask them each, individually, the same thing.

“Do you have everything?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have your lunch bag?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have your homework?”

“Yes!”

There is usually exasperation after the last yes. And yet, at least once every other week, something is forgotten. Either a sweater got left in a locker, a water bottle was forgotten on a desk or, God help us all, homework was left in a classroom mailbox. When that happens, as it did this week, all hell breaks loose.

“Mom!! Have you seen my homework folder?! Please tell me I left school with that folder. Please tell me it’s just in the car!”

But we all know it’s not in the car. We all know that that folder is lying silently across the top of a desk, the victim of hasty packing.

“You picked me up early and I didn’t have time to go over everything!”

Yes, of course it’s my fault. Perhaps she’d have more time to pack up if I left her to take the bus home. Oh, and she’d probably even have plenty of time to finish the homework too, on the 55-minute ride.

Regardless of who’s to blame (me, clearly), the fear of coming to school homework-less causes the honor-roll child to twitch. And cry. Hysterically and pathetically. No one wants anything to do with that. So, while I should have been chopping and prepping, I was instead Googling “common core envision math worksheet printable” and any other variation on that search that I could come up with. But, when you get to the sixth page of 18,800 results in the Google search, it’s not likely you’re going to come up with what you’re looking for. Instead, you’ll find things like, the Polka Dot Pencil Studio.

After 45 minutes of fruitless searching, I gave up. I considered reaching out to everyone I know on Facebook with a plea for a scanned image of the worksheet in question (yes, the breakdowns are that daunting). But, the tears had slowed to a trickle and by now, she had resolved herself to enter school empty-handed.

“Anyway, I have a half-hour in the morning to get it done before school actually starts.”

I’m sorry, what was that? So this was not a dire situation that required all my motherly calm, resolve and fortitude? You can just do it in the morning? Instead of killing my second born, I peeled a few extra layers off the carrots, as I mumbled under my breath like a raving lunatic.

I sometimes wonder when I turned into a crazy woman who mumbles threats under my breath while quietly mocking my family in garbled sentences, accentuated with erratic changes in pitch. But I’m usually too over-the-edge livid to actually care.

Tuna melts and carrot sticks cover all the nutritional bases that I require in a meal. It just sounds a little sad, like I really didn’t care enough to try. Thankfully, my kids actually love this meal so I can keep my guilt to a minimum. Because there are enough things in my life that make me feel terrible.

I redeem myself by winning their love with baked goods. Every kids loves cookies. Especially since I finally found the best gluten-free flour from Bob’s Red Mill,  1 to 1 baking flour.

The Minimalist Baker  has the most delicious chocolate chip cookie recipe I’ve ever tasted, gluten-free or not.

INGREDIENTS

1/2 C (1 stick) butter at room temperature
1/4 C granulated sugar
1/2 C packed light brown sugar
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 large egg
1 C + 2 T gluten -free flour
1/2 tsp each baking soda, baking powder and salt
1 C semisweet chocolate chips

INSTRUCTIONS
Using a mixer, cream butter and sugars in a large mixing bowl.
Add egg and vanilla and beat again until well combined, scraping sides of bowl as needed.
Add gluten free baking mix in two batches and mix again. It won’t be so thick that you can’t continue mixing it, but it should appear “doughy.”
Stir in chocolate chips, cover and refrigerate overnight or for at least 4-6 hours until thoroughly chilled. You should be able to roll the dough into balls before baking.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
Once chilled, scoop out rounded tablespoon amounts of dough, roll them into balls and place them 2 inches apart on a baking sheet.
Bake for 8-10 minutes or until the edges are just slightly golden brown. Remove from oven and let rest on the pan for 5 minutes, then transfer to a cooling rack. Store leftovers in an airtight container at room temperature for up to several days. Freezer for longer term storage. (They taste just as good the second and third day as they hold their texture/flavor well.)

 

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.
<p>&nbsp;</p>

How do you buy your family’s forgiveness?

Write to Laurie:
[contact-form-7 id=”27986″ title=”Write to Laurie”]

 

 

SHARE
Laurie Nigro
Laurie is the mother of two biological children and one husband and the caretaker of a menagerie of animals. Laurie is passionate about frugal, natural living. She was recognized by the L.I. Press Club with a “best humor column” award in 2016. Email Laurie