I lamented on IG this week about investigation work necessary to eliminate whatever toxic substance in my milk is making the boys, at random moments and typically right as I've gone to work at a task, writhe in pain.
In reality this simpleton's research, since I'm not the most disciplined person and would more so be defined as easily distracted, looks a lot like this: Me proclaiming to my husband "It's soda. I know it's soda. I can go off soda. That's easy. I hardly even like soda!" but the next day "It's dairy. It's always been dairy. It's that ice cream I've been eating. Why was I eating ice cream again?" and the next day "No! You know what it is?! It's those lemon bars. Totally the lemons bars. I don't know why I didn't think of the lemon bars"
Everything in my pantry has now taken on the feel of a foreign invader out to destroy all peace in my home. Because do you know what it's like to take care of TWO gas-fighting bebes? If you guessed Hades on Earth---ding, ding, ding---ba-ingo!
In between being able to sleep decently through the night and feeling guilt for consuming pretty much any of the food available in my home, I predict shriveling into a prune of a woman in no time. But with post-pregnancy pudge clinging to my front side. So like a prune kangaroo thingy. Hot mama!
I don't know why I'm writing this as quick takes because, really, this is just a story. As long as I've established this and you're fine with it, let's move on.
Yesterday, I decided to make good use of the milk that I was not about to drink. I made some into buttermilk, whipped them into some impromptu halfway whole wheat pancake mix (dude, there's whole wheat flour in my pantry that's going to go bad in 3 months. Sister's on a budget so I figured, it's pancakes! who cares!) and made some Pinerest-y bacon pancake log things as text pic suggested from my workingroundtheclock husband. Of course, 3 boys constantly crying/calling/goo-ing for my attention, I decided to skip reading any instructions beyond the process of eye-ing the picture which was enough to send me into lingering bouts of laughter and my son asking "what's wrong now, mama?". Plus, I kind of have a hate-hate relationship with Pinterest. So there's that.
|I bet it takes you one guess to figure out which one was my 1st try.|
If any of you were wondering if I was smart enough to utilize the milk for pancakes but dumb enough to end up eating those pancakes, maybe because of the eternal allure of bacon or the violent appetite of a mom nursing twins... you would be on the money... again. But hey, I didn't drink milk with the buttermilk pancakes so my brain was still working a little.
Earlier that day I tried to have Thomas drink the milk but he said no, thank you to my subtle nudge for him to operate as our human garbage disposal before the two days from now expiration date. See, he is what some might call a strong-willed child (even though that label makes me cringe and I 99% of the time buck using, saying, or claiming it). Regardless--The kid will come up with the most elaborate excuses for anything. Caught throwing rocks at day care? He told the director he was showing the other kids what not to do? Caught hitting a baby? The baby needed burping. So when he claimed yesterday that the milk was "no good", I chuckled to myself that I heard 1001 of interesting excuses and maybe I should just go write myself a book titled Toddler Excuses & The Good Rebuttals You Shouldn't Use. I held my ground and firmly told him it was that or nothing. And of course, Stubborn had nothing to do with it.
And I also made the 5th mental note of the day that was just vaguely: more parenting failure, Ash
I ambled into the kitchen this morning and to my sheer delight found a bacon pancake log waiting for me. After questioning the crew, yes, yes, it was left for me! There were golden rays beaming from where it rested on the counter. I felt as if I had awoken to an explosive rainbow of confetti thrown into the air celebrating Friday, Friday, Good morning, it's Friday! And I thought, what the heck, I'll just drink a gulp of milk with this... you can't have pancakes without milk...that's basically a sin.
My guilt for voluntarily, probably maybe, poisoning my babies had me pouring that milk so quick and putting it back in the fridge so quick and throwing it back like a shot so quick....
Isn't milk just the best?
But no! Because my brain went on red alert--vomit now, Ashey! Vinegar. Death. Milk. Water. More death. What is this stufffffff?
Because I don't know what in the world of all things natural happened, but that milk is bad with a capital B. Well, was bad, before I spewed it out and sent the rest down the actual garbage disposal.
And there at the counter was my son looking at me with eyebrows raised.
"See. I told you it was no good. Member. Member, I said that. It's bad. It turned into juice!"
"Right, juice. Something like that. Eat your pancakes."
|We're waiting to see how long it takes her to realize it's the peanut butter.|