This coming Sunday (May 12) is Mother’s Day. I like to remind everyone I know because it makes me feel like I’m doing something for Mother’s Day. If you still have a mother, don’t forget to pay attention to her. I’ll be with two of my kids on Mother’s Day, but I don’t think they’ll pay any attention to me, ha. I make my kids do things like clean out the barn and shovel poop, so they probably think they’ve done enough for me already. My mother used to make me weed the flower gardens and I thought that was bad. I also had to do a lot of dusting, and my mother liked her knick-knacks. Everything’s relative, and since she never asked me to shovel poop, I thought dusting was a real hardship.
My three lil angels in 1997. That’s Weston on the left, then Morgan, and Ross on the right.
I try to be like my mother, but I’ll never be as good and sweet and kind as she was. I’m pretty sure she was always honest with us, too, except for maybe why she kept a bottle of sherry in the bottom cabinet. I don’t think that was just for cooking. Though she said so. I think that was so she could put up with us. Or put up with my dad. Or both.
I’m dishonest with my kids a lot–when it comes to food. My mother was never dishonest about food. If she wanted us to eat something, she just plopped it on the plate and we’d better eat it. Morgan was talking about cottage cheese the other day for some reason, and I described this side dish my mother often served with dinner. A pile of cottage cheese topped by a few sliced cling peaches. My parents seemed to adore this combination while we hated it. I ate a lot of cottage cheese and cling peaches when I was a child, but not since. Morgan was shocked, I tell you, shocked. I used the opportunity to tell her that she was extremely lucky that I didn’t serve that up to her. She said she would refuse to eat it. And honestly, I wouldn’t make her. I never force my kids to eat anything. Which is why I’m sometimes dishonest about food. It’s hard to hide the cottage cheese and cling peaches, but other things make easy hiding.
Back when we lived in the slanted little house, the kids wouldn’t drink the well water coming out of the tap. I’d buy bottled drinking water for them in two gallon dispensers. This could get pretty expensive. Eventually it occurred to me that when the jug was empty, I could just refill it from the tap–with well water. And they never noticed the difference…..
One day, after I’d been doing this for a couple of years, I forgot to refill the dispenser before the kids came home from school. And everybody was thirsty! No water to drink! They were in despair.
I said, “No problem, I’ll get you some more water where I always get it.”
I took the dispenser over to the sink and filled it up in front of their boggled eyes. I said, “This is where it comes from……”
Morgan, Ross, and Weston with my parents in 2008.
While this photo was being taken, Morgan was saying to Ross, “Your armpits smell.”
They never complained about the well water again, by the way, and started filling up their glasses at the sink. Saved me some fridge space, let me tell ya.
And whether it’s calling goat, lamb, or venison “beef” or pulverizing onions till they are unrecognizable in a dish or pouring farm fresh cow’s milk into a store-bought jug, my devious shenanigans continue as needed. I’m just that kind of mother. The kind you can’t trust!
But at least I never serve up cottage cheese and cling peaches. Because that, dear readers, would be too obvious and up front, and really, no fun at all.