One day last week, while reflectively mopping, I said to my husband:
“I feel like I need more purpose in my life…”
My hubby, who’d just gotten out of the shower and was rummaging through his dresser drawers, replied:
“I just need some socks…”
So there you have it: missing socks, a quest for purpose and a real-life example of a couple communicating.
So where do I go from here? I could contemplate my need for purpose and deeper meaning in life but surely that’d be better done in a private journal. I could assess communication within male/female relationships, but that’d be a massive topic and therefore more effectively explored in a book, entitled: Couple Talk: Absent Socks and the Meaning of Life (or maybe not).
I think I’ll turn my focus, instead, to the exhilarating subject of socks and the ever-so-important role of Launderer…
Laundry is my area of specialty at our house. Why? You ask. Well, because I’m a laundering goddess, of course. Well, not really, it’s more like my husband doesn’t want anything to do with the laundering process and that’s ok with me, most of the time. As long as he keeps on shoveling the snow outside, I can accept the role of Launderer.
In case you were wondering… when it comes to sorting the dirty laundry I do so in the following categories: whites, lights, brights, darks, blacks and pinks (yes, it’s an entire load of its own). I then fill and empty the washing machine and the dryer, I reluctantly iron a few things, I fold and I put everything away. I keep my family freshly dressed from head to ankle, faithfully, but sometimes we run a little short on socks…
The case of the absent socks really is an ongoing mystery- an endless conundrum! Who is stealing our socks? Is this someone’s idea of a sick joke? There are more lone socks at our house than in the average home. Currently, there are about 52 mismatched socks sitting in a bag. How? Why?
I’ve discovered that sometimes socks find their way into the toy boxes and that some of them have even been transformed into farm animals! Thanks Phoebe Gilman. There are also times when a sock loses its partner for a while but gets thrown out before the two can be reunited. Basically, the sock that was originally lost gets found only to learn that its mate has been discarded. It’s a hapless turn of events.
I’m starting to think that the mystery of the absent socks is destined to remain unsolved. And, you know what, I’m okay with that. For now, I’ll admit defeat in the sock department of life. Besides, when it comes to laundry, my whites are pretty damn white and that is something. Right?! Or is it….
I launder therefore I am. And within this meaningful role, I shine but I am also shamed. I can accept this because I know that when it comes to martini making, everyone can shine without shame. After all, every laundering lady deserves a cocktail! Here is how you can make your very own Dirty Laundry Martini…
The Dirty Laundry Martini
1.5 oz. gin
0.5 oz. Triple Sec
1.5 oz. lemonade
2 basil leaves
2 tsp. of sugar
- Using a slice of orange, wet the rim of the martini glass.
- Pour sugar on a plate, tip the martini glass upside down on the plate and spin until the glass has a fully sugared rim.
- In a metal shaker, place ice, vodka or gin, Triple Sec, lemonade and 1 torn basil leaf.
- Squeeze in the juice of 2 orange slices,
- Shake, shake, shake and strain into the martini glass.
- Garnish with a slice of orange and set free a little basil leaf, to float on top.
Toast to clean laundry, bare feet and lonely socks.
Over the past 7 days I’ve spent, roughly, 57 minutes in Tahiti. (To learn more about what WTH I’m talking about click here: 7 Minutes in Tahiti -a story of survival.) With hubby away, it was my trips there that saved my sanity. Time in Tahiti renewed my patience long enough for me to comfort, care for and serve my little people, who were, apparently, participating in a competition for who could be: The Biggest Diva.
You see it’s been one of those weeks at our house. You know the ones, where sickness makes its way from one family member to the next leaving a trail of destruction and a frazzled mom in its wake. I was the first to get it and by the end of the week it had made its way through all of us, minus Zed who’s been feeling left out of our club.
Now the end of the week has arrived and everyone is on the mend. We have survived! And as I sigh the sigh of a survivor, I know that this martini that I am about to sip is not only going to be tasty but it will also be well deserved.
This is how you make a My Tahiti…
My Tahiti Martini
1.5 oz vodka
¼ oz Balsamic vinegar
1 tsp. sugar
- In a small blender combine the sugar and strawberries. This creates a puree. Add a touch of water if you need to for a smoother blend.
- In a metal shaker, add the vodka, balsamic vinegar and the puree.
- Shake, shake, shake and strain this beauty into your martini glass of choice.
- Garnish with a strawberry and kick back with your feet up. Toast to sanity and, of course, to those precious moments spent in Tahiti.
If this was me, I’d be in my element….
But it isn’t me, at all. The truth is: I have a pre-disposition to slobbery. Reason being, when I was a teenager I was actually a slob. My clothes lived all over my room, wherever they landed basically. It was a treacherous sea of clothing and shoes, in there, and visitors entered at their own risk.
After years of pleading, my poor mom finally gave up and asked of me but one request: Keep the door closed!
Now, I’d love to say that this all changed when I went off to university but I’d be lying. My four housemates will attest to the fact that I really didn’t pull my weight. When the chores were divvied up, I was always given the least demanding tasks like sweeping the laundry room floor. While my more responsible peers took on the biggies like cleaning the kitchen and the living room. I think they knew that I was shitty at cleaning and they wanted the job done right.
I’m fairly confident, however, as we’re all still friends, that what I lacked in domestic prowess I made up for in ridiculousness and what house of university friends doesn’t appreciate that? I played a mean leg guitar, my Dr. Evil impression was tops and my Rat Face (which, as it sounds, is an impression of a rat’s face) is still alive and well and has even been passed down to our kin.
It wasn’t until I lived in my own little apartment for one that I gained a bit of house pride, but only a bit. I was hardly there.
Fast forward 18 years… I’m now living in a house of five again, only this time I’m in charge of tidying, cleaning and organizing the entire fucking thing! Talk about a learning curve. I know that by having kids, I signed up for all of this. I think I was a bit naïve, though, as to how much mess they would actually produce and I can’t help but wonder if life would be easier if I was still a slob.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not boasting Show Home status, by any means, but there are times when our house looks pretty damn good- if only for a few precious moments. There are also times when it’s a gigantic mess… And occasionally, amidst that wreckage, I cry… And |I wonder, is this the slob in me feeling hard done by? I don’t know but I do think that we can all benefit from a good cry every once in a while.
Personally, I find combining oven scrubbing with sobbing, to be very therapeutic.
Allowing myself to cry, doesn’t mean I’m not grateful that I have an oven to cook with, a home to live in and a healthy family to take care of. It just means that sometimes the weight of motherhood just builds up…
Whether we are crying, laughing or sprawled out, zonked, on the couch at the end of the day we, moms, deserve a nice cocktail. And there is no beverage more perfect for a house cleaning, family organizing mom (who used to be a slob) than a Dirty Martini. This is how you make one…
The Dirty Martini
2 oz. vodka or gin
1 oz. Vermouth
A generous splash of olive juice
1. Fill a metal shaker up with ice. Add the vodka (or gin), Vermouth and olive juice.
2. Shake vigorously and strain into a martini glass.
3. Add olives. Just drop them in (if you’re feeling lazy) or put them on a lovely cocktail stick (if you’re feeling classy).
4. Serve to your house cleaning, family organizing mom friends.
TOAST– to dirty ovens, therapeutic tears and all the laughter in between.
Every once in a while a day begins in such a way that you just know a drink will be had at the end of it. Last week, Becky had one of those days…
Becky is a busy wife and mom of 2 who spends her working hours counseling some of Ottawa’s youth. She is a juggler, as most moms are, a classic example of a modern day mother. Becky is well aware that the journey of motherhood is neither smooth nor predictable. She knows that there’ll be times when she is victorious and times when she clearly is not, like last Friday…
Despite her footwear mishap, (a result of a toddler distraction during the boot selection process) she is able to laugh along with her colleagues and students.
Becky knows that laughter is key in her role as a mom.
At around 10 am, on the day of the mismatched footwear incident, Becky discovers the home phone in her purse. Luckily her cell is in there too. Recalling a very tasty cocktail she’d enjoyed recently, she sends the following text: How do I make a French Martini?
Becky knows who to call on for drink recipes.
Now, in honour of Becky, and those who have walked similar paths, The French Martini will (indefinitely) be referred to as: The Disheveled Momtini. This is how you can make one…
The Disheveled Momtini
Vodka 1.5 oz.
Chambord (raspberry liquor) 1 oz.
Pineapple Juice 1 oz.
1. Fill a metal shaker with ice.
2. Measure and pour in all of the above ingredients.
3. Shake, shake, shake and strain into a martini glass.
4. Serve to your favourite disheveled mom friends and the ones with matching shoes too.
TOAST to laughter instead of tears.