Category Archives: Super mom

Flapjack Redemption

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I love pancakes.  Light, fluffy, buttery pancakes.  Buttermilk.  Multi-grain.  Stuffed with berries or bananas.  Definitely chocolate chips.  When I was pregnant with Gavin I ate them for every single meal during my first trimester.  Sadly they were all delivered from the Starburst Diner.

You see, I cannot cook a pancake to save my life.  Though I am not sure the scenario where my life would be in jeopardy and the only way to recover would be cooking a pancake.  But if that were the case, I’d be toast.

They stick to the pan.  They crumble.  Forget if I try to add something to them.  Battered covered raspberries are not delicious.

This weekend I was a mom on a mission.  Armed with a few new pointers and a refrigerator full of goodies, I was going to make some damn pancakes!

 

the game changer

“A griddle will make all the difference,” I was told by a friend late on Friday.  My first thought, “where the hell am I going to get a griddle for Saturday morning pancakes?”  Thanks Ian, for reminding me that we in fact already had a griddle.  A fancy one purchased for our wedding.  Seven years ago.

In my defense, this is where it was hiding. Way above the cabinets.

Saturday morning, bright and early.  I was pumped!

The goods

The gang was excited too.

Assistant #1 already banging her tray

 

Assistant #2 actually helping

started off well

Warning:  the following images are graphic.

 

the box and I have a difference of opinion as to what constitutes 'medium-high heat',

So I turned the flame down to something I would call ‘low’.

victory was found in the 2nd batch

Ok, so they weren’t from scratch.  Or very pretty.  And they weren’t going to get me added to the Top 10 Places to Eat Pancakes.  But they got a reaction that made my heart sing.  I wasn’t able to capture it with my camera but it looked a lot like this:

Happiness!!

Watching them grow (happy birthday)

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Aside from the day my children were born, yesterday was the most amazing day of my life.  Gavin’s first real birthday party.

I want to tell you all how wonderful it was, I want to transport you to the festivities, I want to share the experience with you all.  But I can’t.  I have no words.

How do you describe the feeling you get when you see your baby turn 3?  When you see him with 20 of his classmates and friends dancing and laughing, sharing and playing?

His legs are a dancing blur!

When you see him get kissed for the very first time, by a little girl, the one in his class that he has been saying for weeks is ‘so pretty’, and he looks directly at you mommy, with stars in his eyes?  In that instant you see him at 15 with his first of many broken hearts.  I make note to remind him of the bruises on his legs at 3, they hurt when you get them but fade with time.  Don’t stop playing.  Never stop loving.  Keep that open heart baby boy.

How do you describe the humbling feeling you get when his eyes sparkle and you ask if he is having fun and he says, ‘yes, mommy!  this is awesome!’ in that breathless way that you praise him and are excited by every new discovery and every new experience you have together?

How do you describe the feeling of pride you get when you really see your child for the first time?  When you know he belongs to others in this world besides just you.  When your heart hurts with pride more than nostalgia until the musician plays the Beatles song you sang to him every single day he had colic and then the pride and nostalgia are equal and produce tears in your eyes.

How do you describe the feeling of bittersweet love when all you want to do is kiss him and hold him and tell him you are amazed by him and the boy he is becoming but you don’t and you can’t because you need to let him play, let him dance, let him practice being that phenomenal boy that he is?

Star of the party -- and my heart

There is only one word to describe all these feelings:  motherhood.

 

Hey, what about me?!?!

Oh yes!  I forgot, it was Chloe’s party too.

Don’t worry, she had fun.  She always does.

All for me!!!!

You win some, you lose some.

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The game of motherhood is no different.  Yesterday morning was a stellar one.  Let me recount how it went down, with a rating of how remarkable each event was (scale of 1-10, one being as common as meltdowns and ten being as rare as Hailey’s Comet):

I woke up feeling refreshed (8)
Chloe woke up happy (3)
Gavin woke up happy (12)
Gavin was hungry (5)
Chloe was hungry (1)
I was inspired to make french toast (7)


Gavin thought it was a great idea! and did NOT throw himself on the floor at the tragedy that I could even suggest something so horrible, and instead couldn’t he just have some yogurt? (10)
Gavin helped me cook while Ian played with Chloe (3)
Both kids ate ALL their french toast (6)
And asked for MORE (8)

We ate, we danced, we laughed.  It was a regular day in the Brady Bunch household.  I’m not going to lie, that kind of morning sets you on cloud 9 for the rest of the day (or at least until dinnertime).

Lest you worry that my family has been taken over by pods, I assure you, breakfast was back to normal today.

 

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Read em and sweep

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After a week traveling around the tri-state area for the holidays, we arrived home yesterday.  By “home” I mean our tiny ‘sure-its-1000-square-feet-Mr.-Broker’, 2 bedroom apartment.  And by “we” I mean me, my husband, two kids, three suitcases and 47,000 bags of groceries, Christmas gifts and WHAT-THE-EFF-IS-IN-ALL-THESE-STUPID-BAGS-ANYWAY????

I am not known for being the most organized of people, but motherhood really helps with that.  I guess when you know you can’t get rid of your kids, you start skimming some of the stuff you actually care about.  Pre-kids, those bags might have sat there for weeks.  Definitely the suitcases.  But with Chloe on the move we need all the space we can clear.  As it is she can only crawl for 5 seconds without revealing yet another child endangering situation.

So I got to work while Ian distracted the kids.  I reorganized the cabinets to make space for all the new food.  I opened all the mail and sorted through bills, christmas cards and Val-Paks with frightening precision.  FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I rearranged furniture to accommodate my kids new kitchen set.  I have no idea what came over me.  Everywhere I looked I saw opportunity for space.  I dominated de-cluttering.

And after that I cooked ordered dinner, bathed my kids and read to both of them - individually! - before bed (in light of this amazing tale, you will surely forgive me for putting Chloe back into the same clothes from before her bath — she was only wearing them for a few hours).

Tomorrow my paralysis in the face large tasks will likely return.  By morning light I will once again fail to even notice the 3-4 amazon boxes that have permanent residence in the corner of our entryway.  And yes, I will continue to be suspicious of any one who dusts the corners of their apartment.  But today, today, I was a good mom.

2012 scoreboard — Me – 1, Apartment – ZERO

For an extinct species, dinosaurs make my life miserable

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All month I have been asking Gavin what he wants to be for Halloween.  All month, my question has been returned with a blank stare.  I know he knows what Halloween is from TV school so I just assume he doesn’t have a preference.

That was my first mistake.  Assumed he doesn’t have a preference?  You mean the child that needs juice –  ”apple-juice, not-orange-juice-but-in-an-orange-cup, no-not-that-orange-cup, the-big-orange-cup, with-a-blue-straw, no-not-THAT-blue-straw-I-want-to-pick-my-own-blue-straw!”

This kid doesn’t lack opinions.

A week before his school Halloween party he tells me he wants to be a dinosaur.  I fought the urge to remind him “I-don’t-HAVE-an-effing-dinosaur-costume-I-have-a-hamburger-costume-that-I-bought-with-your-sister’s-strawberry-costume-four-weeks-ago-when-you-said-you-didn’t-care” and instead hoped it would blow over.  Cause he forgets things (never).

Two days before the party his nana asked him what he was going to be for Halloween.  “A dinosaur.”

F.

After dinner I run out to the pop-up Ricky’s shop down the street.  I feel like super mom when the employee tells me they have dinosaur costumes.  Even better when they have one in his size-ish (18-24 months isn’t a stretch, he is pretty small for 2.5 anyway)!  And it’s 50% off!  High on the spoils of being a delinquent mom, I hurry home to show Gavin his dinosaur costume.

He is unimpressed that night.

The next morning he won’t even put it on.  He carries the costume in a bag because I force him to.  He insists he will not wear it.

He comes home from school nonplussed with the T-Rex still in the bag.

ARE  YOU KIDDING ME?!?!?!?

Next year he is going as an easy child (no changes needed for that “costume”).