My Crazy Kitchen

A few Christmas’ ago, my eldest daughter gave my husband Greg, and me a plaque that read, “Remember, as far as anybody else knows, we’re a nice, normal family”. As you can guess, that sign was immediately hung in a prominent spot as yet another attempt to keep the Sprout family veering toward sanity.

Like most households, our kitchen is the hub of activity. The morning starts early with getting two high school students to off to school. Can somebody please tell me why High School starts earlier than noon? I mean are these teachers masochists? I think, at a minimum, the School Bus Drivers should get danger pay.

The main objective of myself and the other children is to “stay clear”. First and foremost, stay clear of the “grouches”. Anyone with teenagers knows where I’m coming from. Above all, leave the bathroom clear until they are finished!

Secondly, stay clear of the toaster. Remember that poster, “Everything I needed to know in life, I learned in Kindergarten”? Well in the morning in our kitchen, it changes to “I left at Kindergarten”. High school students have the unalienable right to steal your bagel from the toaster, not replenish the milk, borrow your socks and, of course, not walk the dog who, by this point, is howling at the front door.

Epicurean Foods’ Chocolate Chip Pancakes are a real lifesaver at this point. I usually try to throw in any kind of frozen or fresh fruit as the pancake is cooking on the skillet. Putting the fruit in as it cooks makes it less mushy (mental note – 8 grams of fibre down, 24 to go).

Thirdly, stay clear of the front door, because being a little one, you could get trampled by a single-minded teen or their mother chasing them with the glass of milk they forgot to finish or the lunch they forgot to pack or just the gibberish about eating their fruit today or being home right after school since it’s Wednesday clean up day!

As we slam the door behind them, my four children and I breathe a huge sigh of relief (thought they’d never leave!).

The next phase of the morning is quite frankly, self-inflicted. We decide to hem a pair of favourite pants or spot-clean a favourite shirt, or look up who’s the richest man or woman in the Guiness World Book of Records. Of course, we have to check the weather (we’re in Canada –it’s cold!) and we have to check hockey or football scores. Then, suddenly, it’s 8:20! Bus is arriving in 10 minutes and I haven’t even started lunches!

My Children’s favourite lunch:

Pita Bread

Tapenade (any kind - we Love Mrs Mazzulas Black Olive tapenade)

Bean Sprouts (less likely than lettuce to wilt)

Sliced Cucumbers

Alfalfa Sprouts

Shredded Cheese (Monteray Jack is good but any kind will do)

Mayonnaise or Olive Oil*, drizzled on

* We like to use Epicurean’s Olive Oil with Basil & Roasted Garlic

Place (or “throw”, if it’s 8:29) everything on the pita bread; fold it and “voila”. This is also a sure-fire way to make their teacher’s think you’re one of those “together” moms sending healthy, gourmet meals for your child’s lunch (time to pat yourself on the back).

I like this because it has lots of greens, is filling and doesn’t have the nitrites and nitrates of sliced meat. It is also less fatty than traditional lunch meat sandwiches.

Now, the good news is, there is one advantage to having 6 children – at least in Waterloo, Canada - you get your own school bus stop! I was quite pleased with myself phoning up the local school board and informing them that anywhere in front of my house would be just fine, thank you very much.

So, the first person ready is put on “bus watch”. The rules are simple:

1) You are not allowed to call out “buuuuus!!!” unless it really is coming. Such a “prank” will at best, elicit “idiot, jerk, etc.” from piers, at worst will result in facing the wrath of a mother who’s lost in a pile of hats and mittens and just not “in the mood”.

2) At the first sighting of the bus, the “watcher(s)” proceeds slowly out the door to meet the bus as it pulls up.

(Important Note – This step can suddenly turn disastrous if the watcher(s) opens the door too widely and lets the dog out. The chaos that was once confined to the house now spills over into the street, with many other schoolmates waiting for the bus joining in to “catch” the 150-pound dog. In addition, 5- year olds in the snow with pajamas and bare feet just don’t make for good neighbor relations.)

3) If all children are not ready, this person(s) must rely on their ingenuity to “stall” the bus. On a really bad day, i.e. Mom is still making lunches, tripping as you walk toward the bus, is a good strategy. Other days, a simple question to the bus driver about his family and their origin while getting onto the bus will do (everybody likes to talk about themselves, present company excluded, of course).

In the meantime, the quiet hum of “the Sprout family readying themselves for another day” crescendo’s to ear splitting activity. For one, our “sheep-herding” Old English Sheepdog is sensing that the flock is out of control (ya think?). Mr Muggs nobly takes on the challenge of getting them back into the flock with the mother Sheep (I guess that would be me). Of course sheep #4 can’t find her slippers she needs for her play so she isn’t taking too kindly to being grabbed by the jaw of a big dog and pulled back as she runs all over the house looking for them. Screeching ensues which only serves to make Muggs even more hyper, which results in barking and more “grabbing”.

(More Important Note - Did I mention we sell some lovely Yum! Cocktail Drink Mixes (Pina Colada, Cosmopolitan, anyone)? It may be 8:31 in Waterloo but I’m sure it’s noon somewhere in the world.)

With an even bigger “Phew” I close the door (usually on the dog’s foot) and survey the storm damage. These are times I wish I could just twinkle my nose, Bewitched-style and whirl through the house picking up the splattered hats and mitts, throwing the load into the dryer, feeding the dog (cries of “whose turn is it” do no good at this point), cleaning up the breakfast dishes, getting my breakfast, making my lunch, picking up things we don’t want the dog to chew on, etc., etc.

The proverbial hook appears at this point in the form of the realization I’m late for a meeting and the crazy kitchen is exited stage left…

Just remember Moms,

Be good to yourself!