Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Mom is a noodle-head

REALLY.. it felt like a compliment right from the get-go.

"Your hair looks just like noodles, Mommy!"

And where do you go from there?  After all.. pasta is her favorite food.  Being connected (in any way) to a child's favorite food is the equivalent of getting a compliment on your looks  from your husband after passing by a clothing store in the mall.

It just doesn't happen that often.

So, what's not to like?  And she was right.  I took a look at myself in the mirror and connected instantly with my inner macaroni head.  After all, Mom IS a chuck-wagon.

Really.. all moms are chuck wagons.  As soon as we walk in the door after having been out for a really long time (a hour?) the entire family shows up at the door in the kitchen wanting food.

Mom=food.

Can we blame them? I don't know about you, but I personally was the chuck wagon for my babies for the first couple of years.  The youngest two could ask for it by name.  It felt like that was crossing a line, but I fed them anyway. ... "Could you guys just act like babies when it comes to nursing??"

Nevertheless, there is an indelible impression embossed within every child that all moms are made of noodles.

I have one child who can not think of any other topic to discuss with me other than food.  I get emergency phone calls from a young man staring at a piece of frozen chicken.

And then the annoyed look from his siblings when I tell them that I'm walking someone through (yet-another) lesson on how to cook spontaneous chicken.  Spontaneous chicken= anything made with chicken in the frozen state.

So, just about now you have done the calculations.  I am a gourmet.  I cook spontaneous chicken and pasta. a lot. a lot a lot.  At one point, my husband wanted to call our homeschool the "the Webber Academy of Elbow Macaroni".. which I quickly dismissed because it sounded too pretentious.

Two Sundays back, I accidentally invited something like 16 people over for lunch on Sunday.  Actually, I had no idea how many there were until after the meal and I mentally counted them up.  Even for me-- this was "pushing it" in my comfort zone.

Of course, I didn't have a plan.  Of course, there was chicken.  I asked the Lord for help.  I had no idea how much chicken I had.  Without telling you EXACTLY how this went, I will tell you that we emptied the fridge and freezer and pantry of many items that day.  But really?  God is good.  The food was plentiful and good.  I'm not even sure what happened.

God used the noodle-head to feed people.

There's some sort of weird rush that I get from spontaneous feeding of the masses.  The fear of not knowing what is going on is always outweighed by the conquering of some unknown, challenging battle.  It's a sick disease that I have, and so far therapy has not helped.

So, I keep doing it.

As for the rest of you?  Keep being normal.  Keep on.

1 comment:

Herding Grasshoppers said...

I love people who spontaneously have company and aren't obsessed with everything being perfect. I bet people feel loved and welcome, and that's the core of hospitality. Sure, you can be fancy if you want, but it's not required. I'd come for (cooked) frozen chicken and macaroni any day of the week :D

Julie