Is That Chocolate On Your Chest?
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Poor Toddler has been running a fever off and on since Sunday, so she had to miss her last day of school yesterday. Which meant she also missed her class Holiday Party. Determined to make it up to her, I told her that we would have a fun day. I told her that when she woke up from her nap, we would make Daddy a birthday cake. This seemed to lift her spirits a good bit.
The day began as all Wednesdays do. PJ-clad Toddler, Baby and I hung out in the living room. We played with Legos and read books and watched some cartoons. We made messes. But unlike most Wednesdays, I was determined to keep the place clean. “It’s Daddy’s birthday, guys,” I said. “We are going to clean up every time we make a mess, okay?” The girls looked at me and nodded. Both of them. We were off to a good start.
While I was fetching some coffee, Toddler dumped her crayons all over the living room. She scattered them with skill – a few here, a few there. I walked back into the room and she looked up at me and grinned, proud of her hard work. I smiled. “Now where is your crayon bucket? We have to clean up, remember?”
Very seriously, Toddler looked at me and said, “It’s for sale.”
“Okay, it’s for sale, but where?”
“Under the Christmas tree,” she replied. What a little entrepreneur. Selling her used goods to Santa.
We cleaned. And made messes. And cleaned. And made messes. The girls helped me load and unload the dishwasher. Team work was in full effect. I can do this, I thought, admiring the continued peace and order of my surroundings.
I ordered lunch from a diner and we had a picnic in the living room. I ordered the girls their absolute favorites – macaroni and cheese, chicken fingers, fries. We spread the goodies out over the coffee table. Neither girl ate. Not a thing. Hmmm. I tried to coax some food into their little bellies, but to no avail. We all cleaned up the lunch we didn’t eat. Fine. Time for nap.
As both girls napped, I buzzed around. Cleaning some more. Empowered by this sudden surge of domesticity. By four, both girls were up again. I told them that it was time to head out to the grocery store to buy cake ingredients. The kids seemed jazzed. Baby crooned a singsong, “Bye bye” over and over and got her own coat. As we left our building, Toddler said something to me.”Mommy, our house is very messy. We need to clean it up.”
“Okay, babe,” I said.
And moments later, we were at the store. I pushed our impossibly gargantuan stroller down narrow aisles. I only ran over two people’s feet. They both happened to be old ladies.
This was when the day started to take a slow and utterly poetic decline. We found our cake mix. Yellow. And our frosting. Chocolate of course. We bought a little carton of eggs. Organic obviously. We bought rainbow sprinkles and candles. Once home, I unpacked the ingredients to get started. The girls started to run wild. I tried to get them to eat dinner. But they were on a full-on boycott of all things other than mini black-and-white cookies. Fine.
Not to be deterred, I got going on the cake. Like a good girl, I read the conspicuous text on the back of the box. I measured out water. I poured the mix in. Toddler pulled over her little stool to help. I let her crack the eggs. Then I began a fruitless search for vegetable oil. In a panic, I hopped on Twitter and asked whether I could substitute canola oil. I got several amused replies telling me that, yes, I could use canola. (Thanks, guys.) I added the canola. We were on a roll.
I began to stir. Baby ran around the kitchen island. Toddler took it upon herself to do the dishes and managed to spray herself with copious amounts of water. She asked me to take her wet shirt off, so I did. And kept going. I let Toddler stir. She did a fabulous job. We put the cake in the oven and set the timer. And that’s when the spiral really began. Both girls took turns crying. Baby had Toddler beat. She cried and cried. I realized that she seemed a bit sick. Her diapers confirmed this. I tended to my weepy Baby while Toddler ran around and seized the opportunity to make messes that I couldn’t tend to. Baby was inconsolable and ended up going to bed at 6pm, well before her Daddy, the birthday boy, got home.
When the cake was ready, we let it cool. And then we got to work with the frosting. Toddler and I took turns with the knife. When I wasn’t looking, Toddler gauged big chunks out, explaining that “she needed to test it.” Once frosted, I wrote a very sloppy, “Happy Birthday, Dad” in bright blue frosting. Toddler was impressed. I took a picture. To have proof. (See Exhibit A above.)
And then Toddler asked if she could add a few sprinkles. “Of course!” I said. She dumped half the jar on, rendering the words unreadable. Whatever. She added her rainbow pizazz.
And then she said she wanted cake. After saying no to food all day, this mess of a cake looked fine to her. I explained that we had to wait for Dad to come home. She cried a bit about that and then ran into the living room. I hung back, trying to attack the latest mess. Toddler was a little too quiet for my liking, so I went in to check on her. There she was, shirtless, in her little yoga pants, rolling around on our white chairs. Cute as can be. I marveled at her whimsy, her spunk. And then I saw something. I squinted.
“Is that chocolate on your chest?” I asked.
“Yup,” she said. “It is.”
(To keep things anonymous, I provide you with the above shot. You can see the elbow chocolate. There was a lot more on her chest. Trust me.)
Anyway, I got closer to the chairs to assess the damage. Sure enough our lovely white chairs now have very sophisticated spots of store-bought frosting on them. As I was wiping her down, Husband walked through the door. Into a home that looks exactly like it does every Wednesday evening – covered with a film of filth and frenzy. Toddler skipped to him and threw her arms around him. “We made a cake for you!”
And the three of us gathered around that messy cake in our messy kitchen. We lit candles. Husband and Toddler blew them out together. I made many wishes. Even though it was past her bedtime, we cut Toddler a slice. She took it and bounced off into the living room. And I took this opportunity, this first quiet moment of the day, to throw my own arms around my guy.
“Happy Birthday,” I said. “I tried. I did.”
Husband smiled. And hugged me back.
Here’s the thing: I did try. I really did. And I didn’t exactly fail, but that order I was so determined to create? For once? It never quite manifested. And this left me over-thinking things like I so often do. This left me pondering the idea that some people are just better at these things – at baking cakes and controlling chaos. This left me wondering whether domesticity is a matter of nature or nurture or probably both. This left me curious about whether I am the only one who is always one vast step behind? The only one who doesn’t know about the interchangeability of vegetable and canola oil? The only one who ends up with a trashed apartment and chocolate-clad children at the end of the day. And last night, I told myself that this is just par for the parental course. A scripted assurance I give myself all the time.
But I’m beginning to wonder if that’s really true.
I am sorry this post is long and unwieldy. It, like my apartment and my babies, is not crisp and clean. No. But it is real, I think. I write this now, warmed by the sun that shimmies through the Starbucks window. And now I will go home and check on my babes. Toddler is on the mend. But it turns out that Baby is sick. Again. And so am I. And I won’t regale you with the symptoms, but just know that I lost all my cake calories in the middle of the night and will be extra svelte for my family’s holiday party tomorrow night. Just know that there are lots of Baby diapers being changed. And those white chairs? They narrowly escaped an impressive fountain of infant vomit a few hours ago.
But that’s okay. This back and forth between compelling chaos and faux order, between myriad messes and temporary tidiness, between health and sickness? That’s life. Our life. A life I love. And would never trade. But that doesn’t mean it’s always easy.
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Do you think domesticity is something innate or learned or somewhere in between? Are you able to keep your home clean even when there are young creatures running about? Is everyone in your household sick at this time of the year?
Toddler + clean home. It just doesn’t go together.
I think you’re probably right. I will tell myself this from now on. It’s not ME, it’s the screwy equation. Now, I am sitting here trying to calculate how many years it will be before I have a clean home… Yikes.
Domesticity… innate… Uh-oh, Marge. I didn’t get THAT memo. It is definitely a learned, cultivated behavior that should always be kept in its box. My home is the rough equivalent of a gear loft with PMS symptoms. Climbing boots, sleeping bags, carabiners, rope, tents, an errant kayak, bicycle and laptop can be found- and that’s just in the vicinity of my couch. It’s organized chaos, on a good day. Every other day that ends in “y”, it’s nuts. Between hubby and I, we run two businesses and work two full time jobs- and raise a ten year old. Girl. (Yes, that deserved its own sentence.)
Do what works for you. It does get a little better. And to answer that last question (knowing full well I am jinxing myself), no… we are rarely ever sick. We catch way more UV than TV, prefering to go snow-kayaking rather than stay indoors when the temperatures hover far below zero.
Easy it is not. But easy is hardly ever fun…
You paint such a colorful image of your home. I can almost see it… I like the idea that chaos can be organized, that even in its midst, we can retain a bit of control. I guess I am trying to figure out what works for me. Truth be told, I crave neatness, but I don’t do much (or enough) to create it. I am beginning to think that it is when my mind is cluttered and particularly disordered that I really seek out tranquility and order in my external surroundings.
And I agree – easy is never fun. The best things in life take work. Thanks for the reminder.
I definitely think there’s some innate aspect to it… the way that some people are really good with babies and kids (before they have their own), some people are drawn to learn to cook and thrive in hospitality and all that stuff that definitely doesn’t come naturally to others.
Then there are people that just learned growing up, watching their mothers (or fathers), spending days in the kitchen just observing. I did that but I can’t say that too much sank in.
White chairs were definitely an interesting choice with little kids! I’m glad you don’t have one of those white pristine living rooms that nobody’s allowed to go into though… I hate those. Maybe it’s more of a suburban thing though.
I think I agree that there is something hard-wired about being good at these things. I think some people are born with more nurturing instincts and more proclivities toward domesticity. I say that knowing very well that I am likely clinging to this belief because it exempts me from self-judgment.
Ah, the white chairs. It’s a funny story. (Actually, not very.) We worked with a decorator to choose some furniture a few years ago. For all other items, we picked the fabrics and were realistic about the messes that come with kids/cats, but for some reason those chairs got covered in white without our choosing it. When they came, we loved the way they looked and just crossed our fingers.
Poor white chairs.
I adored this post. Adored, adored, adored, and laughed so hard! This is the sweet stuff – this glorious, semi-contained childhood chaos.
This is hilarious:
Very seriously, Toddler looked at me and said, “It’s for sale.”
“Okay, it’s for sale, but where?”
“Under the Christmas tree,” she replied. What a little entrepreneur. Selling her used goods to Santa.
What a smart little girl! Too funny. And the sprinkle cake – too beautiful. Revel in all of it. Mess can be fertile territory for creativity and humor. And it’s the real world. (On that note, I must go dust something… anything… because ’tis the season.)
Thanks for reminding me of something I know, but periodically forget. I know that these messes, this eruption of chaos, is what life is all about. I know that one day I will look back and long for the magical mayhem. I think this is one of the main reasons I have fallen in love with blogging – to capture the silliness and the sweetness, the small moments laced with humor and nascent intelligence – that might otherwise fade under the pressure of time.
And I agree wholeheartedly that a neat and tidy life does not enhance creativity. I will keep telling myself this
Both. There is a little that is innate. The majority is learned. Most I know do things the way their parents did it, or the POLAR opposite.
And it can be learned. You can learn to cook, to bake. You might be following a recipe every time, but you can do it. You can learn to keep a clean house. But how much you care about its state is innate. Of course, with 2 kids under 3, I think if you can see an inch of carpet at the end of the day you are doing very well.
I think I saw at least one inch of carpet when all was said and done last night, so maybe I am doing okay. In all seriousness, I do think these things can be learned. But that means we must decide to learn them, right? I wonder if my ineptitude around the house is evidence of a deep-seated lack of desire to be good at these things?
Ditto, Jack. Children and clean homes just don’t usually happen. I am able to keep our apartment clean, but it’s fairly small, and only one child can make messes at the moment (two if you count my husband, lol).
I think domesticity is a little bit of both. By nurture I had a mother who enforced strict chore charts; by nature I am an obsessive-compulsive. Two of my best friends are just not very clean people…they just don’t need order/neatness like I do. I become physically agitated if things aren’t a certain way.
As far as baking and cooking–that really became important as I became a SAHM because I needed new hobbies to fill my time and I felt it important and loving to provide fresher and healthier meals prepared from scratch. It’s just a personal preference though. You just have to do what works best for you and your family
What’s interesting (or not) about me is that I often get physically or emotionally agitated if things aren’t ordered, but I really don’t do that much to create the order I crave. I envy your ability to keep your home neat and the fact that you are whipping up healthy meals from scratch. I met recently with a friend of mine who is an esteemed nutritionist here in NYC and we talked about health and motivations to be healthy. I am toying with the idea of bringing her into my home to educate me about all things related to family nutrition. Might have to be a resolution for the forthcoming year (though I am not big on resolutions.) If it is, I will of course blog about it!
Whaddafuck you doing with white chairs? Are you mental?
My house is a biohazard. Everything is trashed. It doesn’t make sense for us to buy anything decent for, like, 12 more years at least.
I think you did great–cake got made, kids took naps–to heck with the house!
Thanks for your vote of confidence, Kitch! Husband and I did not pick the white chairs. They just appeared in our home. Well, not really. We selected the chairs and likely did not pay attention when the decorator announced her desire to blanket them in pristine white. Oh well!
Great story! It sounds like QUITE the day. I think domesticity is nature and nurture. While some of us may have more of a knack for it than others, if you cook enough, you’ll come to intuitively understand that vegetable oil and canola are interchangeable. I guess the question is, are you INTERESTED in working towards more domesticity, an inevitable part of the process being a lot of mistakes on the way to mastery. In any event, your genuine effort is obvious, and it’s a great story.
Elizabeth – you raise a good question, perhaps THE question. Do I really want to learn these things, do I want to do what it takes to become better at them? I think I do. I think these things matter. I think I owe it to my family and myself. But the rub is that I am so busy, out of the house so much, that I do not have tons of time to devote to learning these things. I know that there is a likely happy medium. It does not take a lot of time to pick up after myself or to cook an easy meal. I will get there. I hope so at least.
First of all the oil question really cracked me up! We grew up in a home where my mom was always in the kitchen and we were always on a chair right next to her helping and watching..we can all cook, I think even Nathan can! Second, you are crazy to have white furniture! I used to have a little white loveseat in my house and after a couple of juice spills, in sippy cups that are never supposed to leak, I gave it to a friend! My final comment is AJ just got over being sick..flu, no fun! Hope you are all feeling better for the family party, Enjoy!
In fairness, we also grew up in a home where Mom was always cooking. I am just not sure I paid enough attention to absorb her wisdom in the area. And, yes, the white chairs were not the smartest purchase we have made. We have learned our lesson. Or have we? I am 99% sure we are putting a white sofa in our future living room… Stay tuned
I agree with those who have said a little bit of both. And I don’t think that being domestic necessarily means you always do all of the things associated with being domestic. For example, the dishes must be put in the dishwasher just so and I love to cook, but I hate baking and I haven’t dusted, perhaps, ever. I have a robot that does my vacuuming because I can’t be bothered, but I have to make sure that certain things are put away a certain way before I leave the house. I must make my bed before I leave in the morning, but I am awful at putting away clothes. I like to do laundry, but I hate ironing. The living room and the dining room must be clean and neat, but the “office?” Not a chance.
My mother always kept the house clean and neat, but she was not much of a cook or a baker. Things often came out of a box. My father should never be trusted in the kitchen (he is stereotypically British that way). My sister is not non-domestic, but I don’t consider her particularly domestic either.
I should add that I do not have children, only two cats. And that if I had the energy to find a housekeeper and didn’t want to spend that money on something else, I absolutely would. I don’t even feel like I owe it to myself to become a better housekeeper!
That domesticity is not all or nothing is, for me, a compelling idea. I think that we are all unique creatures. No one is 100% domestic. (I have no idea what that means anyway.) I think that I often tend to think of things as all or nothing. (For instance, should I never blog or blog EVERY SINGLE DAY?) There is something compelling about the grays, the middle ground. And, no, there is nothing wrong with employing a good housekeeper!
I know what you mean. I have a hard time thinking that the middle ground is okay and that even if I’m not doing something at an all or nothing speed, I’m still doing pretty good!
I think you are well aware of my struggles : ). In one of my college courses, we learned that “doing your best” is more important than being perfect. There is no possible way for you, or anyone, to have a perfect, spotless, home every night.
I cook (without recipes, I manage to forget where I put recipes…) but do not bake. And even my cooking could use some pizazz. I am not willing, though, to sacrifice my sanity for perfect dinners. Or cakes.
Your account made me smile. The store, the messes, everything. It is a wonderful sort of messy, right? The kind full of love and laughter. Even if the chairs became casualties, what lessons were learned? Was smiling involved?
Reading this has made me happy. Thanks!
Yes, this is a snapshot of the wonderful kind of messy. Yes, this is a tale, albeit clumsy, of love and laughter and lessons and life. I am so happy that reading my words made you happy. Reading yours – and those of the readers above – made me realize that I am not alone in my intermittent struggles. Far from it.
aidan- this MAY be my favorite post you’ve written. you are so human, so real… vulnerable… maternal… proud… flawed… loved. you mention how long this post was, but i couldn’t get enough.
in fact, i’m going to read it again. right now.
ps- how did husband like the cake?
Thanks, Nic. Husband actually really liked the cake. I think he was touched that we made it. (Needless to say, there is not much baking done chez moi) It was good! I am glad you liked this post. I wrote it when I was super-exhausted and feeling sick and it kind of went on and on, but then I realized that this is life. Life is not always concise and clean and perfectly baked, you know?
We have a white couch… worst pre-kid decision we could have made! It is that microfiber stuff, so most stuff comes out, but still… oy!
I love this story, because it’s just so very real. Sometimes all we can do is try, and that’s what counts.
Hope the sickness leaves your home soon!
The kind of post I love to read – the one that reminds me I am not alone! As was mentioned before toddlers and clean houses do not go together. As for illness? Welcome to the world of chilren in the home. I’ll never forget one winter a few years back. I told our pediatrician I was concerned that my children we sick “so much.” She got a very concerned look on her face and asked me how many times they had been sick in the past year (it was Oct.) I said, just as concerned, “5 or 6 times – at least!” Very gently she laughed and told me the average toddler gets 8-12 colds per years. We were well within average range. But with more than one child (and a sleep deprived adult who caught every cold they got) it seemed we were sick “all the time.” Perspective I keep trying to tell myself. Hope you and yours are feeling better soon!
Oh what a wonderful post Aidan! I hope you’re feeling better by now… stomach stuff=my worst nightmare actually. I can’t believe the effort you put into keeping your house neat for your husband’s special day. That’s so sweet of you. I try on many occasions to do the same because I well up with pride when T comes home from work and says, wow, it’s so NEAT in here! It’s next to impossible for me because it truly does NOT come naturally for me to be neat. It takes a TON of work. I have to remind myself constantly to put things in their right place instead of the closest place. And some days, I don’t feel like working so hard at it. I’d rather work hard at cooking a great meal or doing a fun messy art project with the kids.
I saw a side of you in this post that I don’t always see… I love all of your sides but this one especially.
Don’t feel bad at least you have a built-in excuse. I got no kids and your house still sounds neater than mine (bibliophile and budding cat lady here).
Don’t feel bad about the “interest” conundrum either. Interest doesn’t help squat. I love “domestic science” and am always puttering about. While most tweens were reading Ramona, I was reading Heloise. Still cannot pass up a pre-1950 cook or housekeeping book. Untold waste in failed attempts in the quest to be more/better (I have 3 kinds of swiffer and still have roaming herds of dust buffalo). I’m the 5′11″ 160lb ballerina; study and try as hard as I want, I just ain’t built for it. ~sighs~
Shoot, Even though I know all about canola, I still only have a 50/50 shot with box cake!
All I have to say is, white furniture, Aidan? With little ones? Seriously? Wow. That’s incredibly brave. And, I love your little slices of both cake and life. They’re delicious and always leave me wanting more.
PS: I hope you and little one feels better soon!
We happen to be healthy at the moment. With Christmas just around the corner, someone is bound to get sick soon.
I love to cook and bake. Put me in the kitchen all day – like this past Wednesday – and I am happy as a clam. Unfortunately, cleaning is not on my list. My house always looks like a bomb went off.
I worked a full time job when my daughter was little and I was determined to spend whatever available time I had with her. Having said that, it came down to choices and what was more important – a clean house or an extra hour or two of romping around the house with her. Naturally as most mother’s including you do, I chose her.
I can honestly say with a now 21year old who is hard put to track down for long in her busy schedule, kids grow up way too fast. There will be plenty of time for a clean house and learning any kind of domestic bliss later on in life. Enjoy these moments.
As hectic as the day may of seemed. I smiled at the busy pace and love filled moments. I thought the cake was absolutely perfect. (Hugs)Indigo
I think neatness is innate but domesticity is learned. Sounds like your girls had a super fun day, that is way more important than a clean house! There will be plenty of time for rigidity and order in their lives soon enough. If they can count on home being a haven of fun where they can be themselves then they are truly lucky. I think the cake came out great
!
I am so touched by this post. It’s really heartwarming. I am not yet a mom, nor am I married so I have no idea how you must feel but I’ve been an elementary school teacher, rented a room from a family with young kids, and am a self-professed neat freak. God knows how unpredictable life with kids can be and how much I’ve had to let go of my controlling tendencies working with young kids. Definitely a perspective check, you know? I can definitely see the value in your trying (and kudos to you!) and pondering whether domesticity is nature vs. nurture. I don’t have an answer for you except that I constantly wonder myself. But I’d say no matter what you’re doing, it counts as long as you’re trying.
And it sounds like your hubby appreciates that.
Do you think domesticity is something innate or learned or somewhere in between?: I think it’s something inbetween the two. I think it’s hard! Especially with kiddos! And I am not the domestic diva who bakes cakes from scratch. I am not the mother who remembers to do all the fun little crafts for each holiday. I am not the mother who makes the cute little gift bags for my girl’s birthday parties. AS much as I would LOVE to be that person, I just can’t seem to do it. Are you able to keep your home clean even when there are young creatures running about? It’s a constantly cleaning process. I am constantly picking stuff up. It’s just not possible to have a perfectly spotless house, unless you don’t live in it! I find that it feels much more comfortable when we actually LIVE in it, ya know?
Is everyone in your household sick at this time of the year?: We take turns, I swear. Right now I’ve got an itchy throat and my girl has a cough, but neither of us are sick. We take lots of vitamins.
I love the birthday cake! It looks super yummy! And I bet Dad loved it!
I struggle with my need to keep the house clean. I struggle with letting it all go. I struggle with caring. I struggle with guilt for not caring. There is no one, right solution. No one approach. No single outcome. Life with kids is lived daily. No, wait. It is lived moment by moment–as you showed us so well in this piece.
And, I so totally would have called Jen about the canola vs. vegetable oil thing. I’ve got no clue in the baking department either, but I can make a mean grilled egg & cheese sandwich. That’s got to count for something.