To Dream the Impossible Dream or why I make my kids clean

I have dreams of having a clean house.  That's all they are though: dreams.  Having 5 children means that I usually don't have a clean home.  I marvel at the sparkly homes of my friends, even those with multiple children.  I wonder how they do it?  Does it involve a lot of yelling?  Bribing? Do these mothers work themselves to death in the wee hours of the morning?  I haven't figured out the answer but I know that at about 8 pm I am done.  I can't lift another finger.  I need some quiet time to unwind, decompress from the day.  When unexpected people come to visit, I hope they have no reason to just pop into my kitchen.  Just stay in the entry way where it's not quite so bad.

When school is in session, I can do a reasonable job of keeping the house clean.  Not great, but reasonable.  There are no kids around to bother me or mess up what I have done.  I don't have to answer the same question 40 times.  ("The answer is still no.")  But I seem to have so many things that keep me busy that cleaning the house is the lowest on the priority list.  Good thing that The Cowboy doesn't really care, but then again, he doesn't actually see any dirt to clean up.  It's a catch 22.

And then comes Saturday.  The day all my dreams should come true.  Every child has to do a variety of jobs before they are allowed loose on the world.   There are bedrooms to clean, bathrooms to scrub, floors to vacuum.  Things should be picked up, put away and the house should not be embarrassing if someone should happen to drop by.  And sometimes things actually do get cleaned up, but never to my satisfaction.

And then it hits me, teaching my children to work and clean the house really has nothing to do with me having a clean home.  It has everything to do with teaching them responsibility.  In taking pride in a job well done.  In learning to do the hard things first.  I am always going behind, doing the "finishing," but I hope that I am moving forward in raising good kids.  Even if I have to let some dreams go.

And in other news...

I stumbled upon this blog of mine tonight remembering how I wanted to document so many life moments knowing my children would be growing up so fast.  I had to laugh that I had written exactly two blog posts in 2013. So much for documenting our life.  And now here we are in 2018 with Peaches about to graduate from high school.  She is furiously filling out college applications and dreaming of where she will attend college in the fall.  The rest of the kids are just as grown up even the baby, who isn't a baby anymore and wants her name to be Key Lime Pie.  I could have never guessed in 2013 where my life would be today.  Isn't that they way it always goes?  If we knew what was going to happen to us in the future, we might not dare to go there.

And it is exactly the hard things that make us who we are.  It is the struggle that makes us strong, the tears that teach us compassion and our suffering that makes us more Christlike.  I can't recount the pain and sadness of the last few years, but my marriage and the wonderful life that I knew is over.  It has been a long road so in some ways I am relieved.  But just as I feel a sense of peace and comfort, I feel devastated. There has been so much anger on my part toward my husband and his choices but I have decided to let that all go.  Even as I type that, I want it to be true.  It is easy to say in a moment of clarity but harder to remember when behaviors are damaging by those who claim to love.   In some ways, divorce is a death.  A death of all we knew and trusted, a death of our old life, a death of what we thought the future would hold.

Christmas was a day all spent together.  It was awkward, but I am determined not to be unkind as I hope for my children that all holidays will be celebrated together.  No dividing of parental love or time.  We opened presents, had our traditional peaches, ice cream and waffles, went to see Star Wars and then I made dinner, for all.  My cookbook club has been making recipes out of Food 52's Genius Recipes for the month of December so that where I took my inspiration.  The cookbook can be found here. 

My favorite was Salt-Crusted Potatoes with Cilantro Mojo.  I also made Perfect Pan-Seared Steaks which were tasty but more work than steak should be.  We all were filled and left satisfied even if life was a bit complicated.

Cinnamon Rolls

I live in a world of excess.  My children don't believe me.  They think that they need more. Of everything.  Or anything.  It doesn't matter.  Just more.  "There's nothing for lunch." "I don't have a phone." Or a DS, or my own YouTube channel.  I need a new pair of jeans, tennis shoes, a flash drive, a belt, shoes. I need, I need, I need...  And I think, "Really?  You need all this?"  And some of it they do.  Maybe.  I get tired of all this excess, this unwillingness to make do.  Most of the things my kids want, I could get for them.  But I don't and here's why.  I want my children to grow up appreciating the things they have.  I want them to recognize the privilege which with they live.  A privilege that requires they give back.  I want them to develop gratitude.  I want them to work for some of the things that they need and feel a sense of responsibility for what they're given.  I want them to be generous people.

I try and model this kind of behavior.  It comes as a sad realization when I recognize that I am not doing as well as I should.  I was recently given an opportunity to help stock an apartment for some missionaries for my church.  A list was emailed out about all the things they needed.  I was at the store and saw that a few of the things they required were in the clearance section at the store.  Easy, I thought as I paid my $5 for a water pitcher and a few drinking glasses.   I was slow to respond to the email, and learned later that someone else had already picked those items up.  So on another trip to the store, I bought some fancy measuring cups.  And then I decided that I would keep those new shiny measuring cups for myself and give the missionaries my old ones.  I don't know when it dawned on me that I was not being generous.  I had congratulated myself for my service, but I wasn't willing to give up anything to serve. 

In the end, I gave them the pitcher, glasses and new measuring cups.  I figured a few extra glasses are always welcome.  And then I had my son, Ramen, make cinnamon rolls to take around to a few families at church who had just had babies and one who was ill.  At least it made me feel better and hopefully it taught him a lesson about service.  He said that he felt great.  And that it was fun.  And that he wants to be a secret service person (not the federal agent kind) who leaves things on doorsteps and rings the bell and runs away.  Which reminded me of when my family growing up "turkeyed" families at Thanksgiving.  My Dad would get frozen turkeys and we would deliver them to families that were in need, leave them on the doorstep, ring the bell and then run.  It is a great memory made by some pretty great parents, who have always been models of  Christlike service to me.  

And in the end all we really want is more love, more kindness, and more compassion.  And maybe a really great cinnamon roll.

Vegetable Pot Pie made by Peaches

This has been the summer of children cooking and baking.  It's helped to keep them out of trouble.  Not that my children would ever get into any trouble, mind you, but being in charge of dinner or making dessert has given structure to a few days of endless boredom.  Plus I find that my kids are more willing to eat their dinner if they've had a hand in making it.  Especially if they've chosen the recipe.

I take seriously the weight of being a mother.  All the things I'm suppose to impart to my children.  All the things they need to learn to take care of themselves, be good people, to choose the right, to make a difference.  I don't think this weight is a bad thing.  It motivates me (usually), gives me some direction in what we do around here, but sometimes it can be overwhelming when I don't know how to explain my daughter's math homework or answer questions about how airplanes work.  But I do know how to cook and I do know how to bake and I read cookbooks like they are the greatest novels ever written.  So I am loaded with information that can be passed on to the next generation.  At least in this department.  And besides if my children can feed their families and feed their friends with food that satisfies the soul, they will be surrounded by love and that's what I want the most for them anyway.

Peaches picked out an Ina Garten recipe from Barefoot Contessa Parties.  This is the book. She decided to make Vegetable Pot Pie. The recipe is found here. She made a few changes to fit our family.  She did not use the Pernod as I don't think a 13 year old needs to be working with alcohol and we don't keep any in the house.
She also changed up some of the vegetables to be more appealing to her brothers.  No butternut squash this time.  No black pepper on the crust.  Nothing to make them question that first bite.  But I do heartily recommend the yellow onions and fennel at the beginning of the recipe. Cooked down they become creamy and dreamy and add a distinctive back note to the dish.

We managed to serve about 8 by using smaller bowls which were still overflowingly abundant.  Garten doesn't specify a bowl size but ours held about a cup and a half.  There was plenty of filling for all the bowls.  The bonus is that our bowls didn't take as long to bake which was great since everyone was starving. Or at least pretending like they were starving if food wasn't produced at the exact second they demanded it.  Or they were going to die.  You know how that goes.