Eating. Let me tell you, we have been doing a lot of eating. To be fair, this is one if my most favorite things to do in the world. What I didn't realize, was that my typical day-to-day routine had naturally prevented me from devouring everything in sight, whenever the whim hit. I guess I am not really the three square meals a day type. I am an eat all day - meals, snacks, kids' left-overs, treats - type. Apparently, my littles are the same. Since isolation has started, there is always someone with their head in the fridge, their body on the counter, or their arm in the cupboard.
My boys have been the biggest surprise. When it came to their school lunches, there would always be some uneaten item left in their lunch bags, at the end of the day. It would usually be one of their healthy snacks, most often one of the vegetable variety. "I didn't have time to eat my carrots." "You packed me too many cucumbers." Funny. A Bear Paw never seemed to make it back home, though. Not once. They will frigging make time for that sugar bomb. But, don't you dare pack five slices of cucumber, instead of four. Are you crazy? You have to have realistic expectations. A cucumber consciousness, of sorts.
There have been a couple of curious culinary additions to our standard meal repertoire, in the past couple of weeks. One night, I wanted to make a salad. The boys will eat a Caesar salad or a salad with lemon and olive oil dressing. Or just plain, dry lettuce. That is about it. We had no Caesar dressing and no lemons. As running out and grabbing ingredients is no longer a viable option, it was time to wing it. I made a Frankenstein dressing, blending their two faves. I made a Caesar vinaigrette, complete with anchovy paste and substituting the lemon, with vinegar. It actually turned out pretty decent, although, taste like Caesar dressing, it did not. With a shoulder shrug, I dumped it on the salad and hoped for the best. Here is where things get really f**ked up... Brace yourself. My beautiful babies said they loved it. I mean, they were going on so much about how much they liked it, that in my pandemic panic, I thought that they were hoodwinking me. That their father had put them up to this. But, the next day, when I asked them what they wanted for lunch, my oldest asked if they could please have salad. I scanned the area for my husband, who I presumed was probably hiding behind a wall, snickering at his own cleverness, but he was nowhere to be found. So, I made the salad. And they ate it. All. Anchovy paste and everything. Although, they don't know that. Insert maniacal, isolation laugh.
The other new addition, was a creation of my hubby. It is hot dog pasta. Doesn't that sound delicious? And, yes, I let my kids eat hot dogs, Susan. However, it is not the hot dog mac and cheese, that we had as kids, in the eighties. No, no. It is way more fancy. You see, he takes dry spaghetti noodles and puts them through cut up hot dogs. Then, he boils them. Delectable! I'm guessing, anyway. I don't eat that. That would be messed up.
Eating. We have been, we are, we will. A lot. Maybe, whenever my tiny humans return to school, I will dip that fifth cucumber slice in Frankenstein-anchovy dressing, and they will find time to eat it. It is a hard pass on the hot dog pasta, for this Mama. But, who knows what several more months of being housebound will bring.
Does Mama need to lose her shit?
Not this week.
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