Domestic Goddess

After a while reading about the gourmet meals other people prepare for their families, the wonderful things they sew, the amazing vegetables they grow (and that their families actually eat) I start to feel pretty inadequate.

What do I manage to do with the same time that the domestic goddess has been given? Whereas in the domestic goddess's day there is time for super duper fun trips to the park, time for crafts and time for shopping and picking out fancy cheese - and time for cleaning up messes, sewing clothing for your family and tending to the garden that probably has a magic bean stalk somewhere I seem to barely manage to do simple mundane things like take a shower and eat a meal.

Yesterday I felt super put together because I got to take a shower and comb my hair and put on make up. The only thing that would have put a cherry on top of that hygiene sundae would have been being able to do it while sipping a cup of fresh brewed coffee (well, not while in the shower obviously). But to add brewing coffee to this list would have been greedy and the universe would have laughed at my ambition and taken away my time to comb my hair and put on the scant make up I did slather on my face.

This morning, still high from my shower and combed hair from the day before, I set out to make an awesome meal for my awesome family. As I was washing basil for the pesto I was making, from scratch, I got to thinking that I was feeling all sorts of smug and superior because I was making pesto.

Pesto.

Is pesto not the easiest of all sauces to make? Basil + cheese + pine nuts + olive oil + garlic = pesto. Throw in blender, whir and done. Then throw in the fridge and wait for hubby to get home so you can shock him with a delicious homemade meal.

Except you didn't slice the bell peppers or take the chicken out of the freezer or buy fancy refrigerated pasta (extra Martha Stewart points for making the pasta). Hubby then notices the leftover grilled sausages and bell peppers in the fridge (that you of course, had nothing to do with as they came on skewers with big hunks of steak from the grocery store because you were too tired to cook - and to be fair, a lot sick).

Sauteed sliced chicken sausage with thin slices of the formerly large wedges of bell pepper and onion are a nice addition to the skillet. Boil water for the quickest cooking pasta you have - half a package of angel hair spaghetti - because time is already slipping away from you and three minutes later your gourmet, home cooked meal is ready to be assembled.

Oh, and there are no side dishes. No exotic grains, no salads with an assortment of colorful lettuces and spinach with craisins and nuts. The meal comes complete with a protein and two - count 'em two - vegetables.

Hubby eats half of his before he has to run off to the Seahawks game. I scarf mine while trying to coax Gavin to try ONE FREAKING BITE. He cries and turns his head to the side. I sneak a minuscule bite into his mouth. He reacts as if I stuck a pile of putrid slop from the compost bin in his mouth. OK, not a fan. I help him scoop the offensive food out of his mouth and tell him he doesn't have to eat any.

For dinner my son ate a plum the neighbor gave us from his tree.

A plum.

Oh, and drank some milk.

What am I going to do?

So, my grandiose plans for an awesome meal were dashed. Tomorrow I'm going to try a recipe I saw in a magazine. It involves a ton of eggs, some cheese and vegetables. I figure the chances of getting some vegetables into Ryan and Gavin will have more success if they are covered in egg and cheese. Oh, and it's supposed to be super easy to make. I'm sure it will turn out to be edible.

That's all I can really guarantee. The house is trying to slip into its natural state of disaster and it feels like all of my energy goes into keeping the from falling into the hovel hole again. Load the dishwasher, unload the dishwasher, wash pots and pans, take care of pots and pans. Clean counter tops, sweep floors, take care of papers that find their way to the dining room table where they really want to take up residence and start sending open house invitations to their other friends in the clutter world.

Then there is the issue of laundry. Quickly take the hamper downstairs while Gavin is engrossed in some activity for all of a couple of minutes.

Next trip dump clothes out on laundry room floor - if Gavin is downstairs with you - sort clothes. Go upstairs because Gavin is getting a little too close to the cats litter boxes.

Sort the clothes when hubby gets home. Throw a load in the washer.

Forget about said load in washer until its too late and requires another washing - this time with a hefty dose of vinegar in the rinse water.

Remember load in washer just in time. Throw in load in dryer.

Pick clothes out of dryer as you need them. Bring them up when hubby can't find any clean clothes. Fold all of his clothes and find none of yours because you've been getting your exercise going downstairs to fish clothes out as you and baby need them.

So what do I do with my time? Well, you see, I'm here at almost 4 in the morning because a charlie horse woke me up. It was all in my right leg. One cramp on the top of my foot and one in the calf. If I tried to ease one it would exacerbate the other. The reason I'm blogging or on facebook in the wee hours of the morning vary - last night it was because I couldn't lay down without deep, bed shaking coughing. All of this owlish activity turns me into a less than productive person during the day.

Of course, if I was a true domestic goddess I would be able to make a poultice for the charlie horse and would brew a tea of herbs from my own garden to ease the coughing.

There's no winning when there is a domestic goddess around for comparison.

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The preceding story of the domestic goddess is not about any one woman. It is merely a compilation of many women - who, I know, all have their own struggles but who manage to turn their struggles into amazing works of art. They are women I am mostly envious of because of their talents in areas that I aspire to be better in.

I may not have the best kept house but you know what, I bet I can make you laugh.

Now if only that laughter could churn out a knitted scarf and a three course meal.