Close Enough

My children have become increasingly complicated.

AndIthinkitmightbemyfault.

Oops.

I grew up in a home that modeled ease and efficiency. My dad subscribed to the KISS Method (Keep It Simple Stupid). My mom was lovingly, and mostly behind her back, referred to as “Close Enough Cathie”. My parents didn’t just do things; they did them in the simplest way possible. If the instructions required ten steps, they could do it in six. Packing for college? No need to make two trips – Dad could fit more volume into a 1980’s Chevy Station Wagon than the actual cubic feet the model claimed to hold. Everything else got tied to the roof. Missing a key ingredient for your meal? No need to go to the grocery – Mom could figure out a ready substitution and, nine time out of ten, it involved water.

Things were so simple at our house that when I went away to college, I was shocked to discover that there were spices other than salt and pepper! My sister had a similar revelation about pudding – it doesn’t always come out of a box, some people actually cook it. WHAT?

Then I got cable television. Martha Stewart and HGTV changed me. I was swept off my feet by complication, excess and those fancy mops that you can use on floors AND your ceiling fan. I had to have a glue gun. I needed a blender. A spice rack was essential. (Are you kidding me? You need an entire RACK for those guys? Sign me up!)

I spent the next ten years making homemade Valentine cards and decorated cupcakes from scratch.

Yes, friends. I was “that” mom.

However, at some point I realized that it was all just too darn much. I couldn’t get three kids dressed for the party AND make a treat from scratch AND create a super cool homemade gift that was perfectly wrapped with coordinating ribbon without having an anxiety attack. Martha Stewart couldn’t do it either. She doesn’t have small children at home, she gets paid lots of money to be that crafty and she had to go under house arrest just so that she could get a break from all of the madness! So, I stopped reading “Martha Stewart” and started subscribing to “Real Simple”.

Well, unfortunately, this summer all of that early excess and complication has come back to bite me in the butt. Evidently, although I made the change, my children have already developed a taste for Martha’s high end ways.

My daughter would like to do a craft. Of course. Feel free to help yourself to the scissors, paper, crayons and glue sticks in the cabinet.

NO!

She wants to make a life-size carousel for the backyard using only the materials that she can find in the recycling bins and a roll of scotch tape. She is hoping that she and her brothers can actually ride on it and she would like Grandpa to make the motor using the little batteries from his workroom. Yeah, the KISS Grandpa. Good luck with that, Sweetie.

My son would like to play a game. Of course. The Uno cards are in the drawer. Would you like to deal first or shall I?

NO!

He wants to play the Game of Life. Not the 1970’s version that doesn’t even have an instruction page because the board tells you exactly what to do. Rather, the 2000’s version that has so many rules one needs a PhD and three days to play, especially when one is playing with a five-year-old who can’t read and doesn’t understand that “life” involves things other than eating and pretending.

My other son would like a snack. Of course. You know where to find the fruit snacks.

NO!

For his first snack, he would like a red apple cut into exactly eight slices and dipped in peanut butter. Please make sure that there is no trace of core on the apple slices and use a big spoon for the peanut butter. For his second snack, he would like square crackers (whole wheat but not whole grain) with five slices of cheese (the kind you cut, not the kind you unwrap). For his third snack, he will be happy to help himself to the afore mentioned fruit snacks.

Why does it all have to be this hard? Because I broke them. I should have been teaching them how to read and instead we were making homemade Halloween decorations with Styrofoam balls and tulle. Damn you, Martha Stewart. Damn you and your project guides that only need to be enlarged by 200% on a copy machine.

So, knowing all of this, you can imagine my surprise when all three children approached me about dinner the other night. What were we having? Homemade coleslaw with cabbage from our garden, marinated and grilled chicken, roasted potatoes, and rhubarb crisp for dessert.

NO!

My daughter would prefer hotdogs (boiled, not grilled, no buns, just dipped in ketchup) with a side of Ramen Noodles. One son agrees that I make the BEST Ramen Noodles. The other son would just like the noodles, no hot dog, and can he make them himself?

I sigh a sigh we moms sigh altogether too often and silently acknowledge that perhaps my children haven’t been entirely brain washed by my “Martha Phase”. But, please, can’t we find a happy medium between hot dogs and recyclable yard art?

And then I see my daughter duck out the back door with the empty Ramen Noodle carton and a roll of tape…