Memories…like the corners of my mind
The twins turn 6 on Wednesday so Sunday we were having pizza and cake with the family to celebrate. My brother and sister-in-law graciously offered use of their house and pool and the twins were excited!
We agreed to meet up around 11am Sunday which left me plenty of time to prep for the journey down Route 130 South (it’s only 24 miles but traveling with 4 kids under 6 is always feels like a journey). Friday night the twins and I went to Party City so they could each pick out a “theme” for the pizza/cake party. M chose The Avengers and J chose NASCAR. Next stop was Shop Rite for cupcake stuff (M vanilla with vanilla icing, J plain chocolate NO icing).
Saturday morning the husband took the twins to work with him and I was left with the littler kids or as
we I like to call them “my 2 kids”. Let me just say that the little kids are 18 months apart and 110x more work than the twins ever were. Anyway, I decided to bake the cupcakes early so I could get it over with give them enough time to cool. It started off great, and just as I was about to turn on the hand mixer, in comes L.
Cake? Cake? I want cake! he started yelling when he saw the cake mix on the counter. After some coaxing
yelling I was able to convince L that he could have cake after he helped me make it. L dragged the kitchen chair over to the counter and watched me put in the eggs, oil and water. His eyes lit up when he saw me reach for the hand mixer and insisted on “helping”.
As I was holding my hand over his and moving the bowl around with the mixer, I kept thinking that this was a special moment, one of those memories I am supposed to cherish and hope that L will remember when he is grown up. However, my brain was being bombarded with thoughts of it’s getting late, I need to make 2 batches of cupcakes AND why can’t the kids like the same kind of cake?
I took a deep breath and decided I was going to enjoy the moment and not worry about the time, J screaming at me to change the channel on the tv or Molly (the dog) barking at me to go out. For those couple of minutes we were baking I tried to ignore the buzzer on the dryer and the sound of Nick Jr. in the background. I even threw caution to the wind and let L taste the cake batter (complete with raw eggs).
I kept remembering how much my brother and I used to love to lick the bowl and the beaters when my mom baked and I wanted L to experience it. He ever so cautiously stuck his tiny finger in the leftover batter before licking it off and exclaiming MMMMM dat good!
The rest of the day was completely chaotic and insane, I had even toyed with hiding in my closet again until Mrs. Jeter told me not to. I yelled a lot and also may have whispered the phrase I hate my life under by breathe a couple of times, like when L screamed his guts out when asked to try on sandals in Payless.
Later when the kids were all in bed I thought back over my day. Sure there were things I could have done better, times I could have waited before yelling but when all and done, the kids were fine. No major damage was done (at least none that we know of) and most importantly we made time to lick the bowl and make a memory.