Benadryl Pairs Nicely with a Crisp Chardonnay in Dramedy

  • Feb. 4, 2024, 9:06 a.m.
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Found this old entry saved on my laptop from another site I was using in OpenDiary’s hiatus. (4 years is still considered a hiatus, right?) What can I say, after OD, I used to blog around. For a while, I had a blog which was a mix of obscene, comical entries about my failing marriage & then, heartbroken poetry when the comedy ran out….Then, the first blush of a new romance pinked up my writing and then, I got pregnant with my daughter & it didn’t feel right to write in there anymore. (Right to write. HA! See what I did there?) So I started a motherhood blog…where mostly I wrote humorous entries about being a mother, trying to staunch the loss of identity & self I was feeling…but, it only added to it.

This is an entry that I found written for that motherhood blog from a few years back:

While trying to make several desserts recently, it came to me that there should be some kind of cooking show that shows what cooking is REALLY like with 2 little ones. Based on my experience, it would be like: “Good morning, I am wearing my mismatched pj’s this morning because I have completely given up on myself and am now putting all of my own hopes and dreams on my 2 children. Especially the boy. For some reason he seems more malleable than the girl.

I am not going to bother with wearing an apron. Why? Well, for one reason, this is not the 50’s. For another, I am not a domestic goddess. At best, I’m a feral one. At worst, I am a Hoarder’s Episode. One of the bad episodes where they don’t even remember how many pet cats they have. Plus, if I was going to put any extra clothing on today, it probably should have been a bra—but as you can see, I couldn’t even work up the class to do that…While this is suitable attire for Wal Mart, I’m certain Martha Stewart would be slapping a personal assistant in disgust and rage somewhere if she could see me cooking like this.

Anyyway, we will be making a No Bake pie this morning. I like to call it Le No Bake pie, sounds French and Ooh-lala. Plus I’ve heard that Le No Bake Pie is French for Julia Child Never Had to Wipe a Kid’s Butt Mid-Recipe. What I’ve found is that when there is actual cooking time involved in a dessert, as the pie is nearing completion–one of the kids usually crap their pants and inspires the other one to do the same and by the time I’m done changing both of them, the pie has burned. So Le No Bake Pie it is, my friends.

You’re going to start by mixing the first 3–whoa, whoaaa–stop swapping that sucker back and forth between you, no! NO! DON’T LET THE DOG HAVE A TURN. Ok, as I was saying, mix the first 3 ingredients and then you–BRIDGET! Bridget! Stop feeding Rowan eggshells from the garbage!!! Spit ‘em out, Rowan! Good lord, I’m counting on you to be the one to go Ivy League, remember? This doesn’t bode well if you can’t even figure out you shouldn’t have eggshells in your mouth! That’s it! Your college fund is going to be deposited into Bridget’s Future Bail Fund.

Ok anyway, at this point, you’re going to look for a 2/3 cup in the dish strainer for 30 minutes, since you don’t believe in putting dishes away after they’re washed and now have a massive tower built out of china like you’re playing Dish Jenga…After knocking 50 cups/plates on the counter, you’ll find a 1/4 cup and try to do math in your head to figure out how you can make 2/3 with a 1/4 cup. At this point, you will regret not paying attention in math, give up and sprinkle the amount in that you THINK equals 2/3.

When you turn the mixer on, one or both of the children will suddenly be reminded that they need juice—URGENTLY. You will need to get them both juice in the sippy cup. Once you give them the sippy cup, you will realize it was apparently not the right sippy cup, as they are now throwing a temper tantrum that Mariah Carey would be proud to throw. You swap cups and briefly consider adding Benadryl in with their juice, before just deciding to dose yourself. (FYI: Benadryl pairs nicely with a nice crisp Chardonnay.) While you’re at it, throw some Goldfish crackers at them like you’re the effing bird lady in Mary Poppins and their pigeons on the steps of the cathedral.

At this point, you forget what it was you were doing. Did you add that cup of sugar? You’re not sure…so add another small handful of that sucrose. It can’t hurt. Unless you’re inviting Wilford Brimley and his diabeetus over for dessert.

Right about this time, you consider running to the store and buying a pre-made cheesecake to bring and pass off as your own….as well as making sure you refill your birth control….Instead you will just eat the chocolate batter over the sink while you’re kids mash their cheesy crackers in the shape of a smiling fish into your living room carpet. Stay tuned for next week when we make a menu consisting solely of my kids’ favorite food groups: chocolate syrup, ketchup & canned frosting with 3 pounds of sprinkles. You’re not going to want to miss it.


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