Sometimes I'm a really good mom; ridiculously wound with energy, clever, creative, patient and versatile. Sometimes it's just time to make dinner and often you hear, "WHY are their TOYS in my kitchen? MOVE IT OR LOSE IT! Where is your daddy..(whimper, sigh)?"
The other evening aka 5:30pm, Jack and Griffin were playing on the patio as I began the whole dinner process. They were sharing, even happy and it was quiet in my kitchen. This scene is lovey, but short lived. I'd say five minutes and then Jack's face started turning red and he screamed something about Griffin being a banana peel. Now I'm trying not to laugh and suppressing my own anger at their constant rifts.
We came inside and made The Pioneer Woman, Buttermilk Biscuits. I thought it couldn't be done, but somehow it was the most magical event. Both boys helped pour, mix, roll, press and place the biscuits. They even mostly ate the biscuits (which are wonderful) and somehow in all this pleasure Daddy came home. So sometimes I really am a good mom. Ha! (still convincing myself)