Sauced In New York Sometimes the food is in the sauce, sometimes we are
When I was a little girl, I never saw my mother finish a cup of coffee in one sitting. As I grew older, I teased her about this: the way she would start her morning with a cup and have to microwave it at least three times before she finished it.
Of course, I get it now. As a stay-at-home-mom, my mother was surrounded for a nearly 24-hour period of time with three admittedly adorable, but slightly demanding children (I would say it was 70/30 ratio in favor of the cuteness). How the hell was she supposed to sit down and enjoy a leisurely cup of coffee?
I had lunch with a friend the other day (a fellow blogger as well, who writes about family, children, food and life at www.seemommycook.com) who was discussing her children’s uncanny ability to suddenly need a toy they haven’t played with in a year or desperately have to use the bathroom at the exact moment she’s poured herself a cup of coffee. Or there’s my friend’s mother who absolutely loathes it when her food isn’t piping hot – the result, I believe, of having four children and never sitting down to a hot meal because she was too busy making sure everyone else was okay. So now, all the children grown and gone, she wants her food hot, dammit!
My “bottomless” cup of coffee isn’t the result of demanding children, though. Rather, it’s my ability to start projects (i.e., cleaning out the fridge when I open it to get the creamer) that lead to other projects (since I’m cleaning the fridge, I should organize the cleaning supplies under the kitchen sink) that never quite get completed that result in my coffee being microwaved and the smallest twinge of that feeling, I’m turning into my mother. Not that that’s a bad thing.
