Really?, pestos made for freezer, amazing Father's Day dinner planned

Do y'all know where I am right now? I'm hiding in my bathroom, sitting on the toilet, typing. This is getting old. A beloved sitter just arrived, but tired Jack and just-awake Oliver are scrapping downstairs, and taking turns saying they need me. Am I really so magnetic and alluring? How is a Mommy who went completely ape-shit after 2+ hours of not-s0-fun outings this morning still THE.MUST-HAVE.BEING. onto which the children must glom? Why is there never any reprieve from this "vaunted" status? Tom forgot to put a diaper on O before his nap, so he awoke in a sea of pee which naturally I had to clean up since T left for Home Depot on some man mission. Speaking of this man mission, it has, thus far, involved drilling into the wall and ceiling just above my side of the bed. Did T cover the bed or my night-table? He did not. It doesn't take much in the way of imagination to think about how said side of bed and table look now: not clean. The Grand Relocator, as I call T, also happens to have a penchant for leaving a project after 75%; often the project is completed but the clean-up is seriously lacking, and nothing is put away (hence nickname). I patently refuse to clean any of this up.

I am snark-tastic right now and really not in a good way. You know what makes me crazier than peeling garlic (seriously, why the eff do those papery peelings insist on sticking to the garlic or to you? It drives me to the brink)? Never knowing what the next day of motherhood will bring. It would be so nice to imagine that Tuesday will be just like "_____." But it never is. The variables that might or will change seem infinite, the newly mutated variations of them sometimes wonderful, sometimes the complete antithesis of that. I swear to you some mother invented wine, not some man, as the story surely goes. It was definitely some ancient cave-woman who one day just broke down and out of desperation drank something that she forgot to put away last week because amid the mayhem of child-rearing, gathering food, doing some primordial laundry and so forth, it just slipped her damn mind to seal up the grapes. Well, hats off, Lady Cave. I bet you were thrilled and so the eff am I.

I really need to get to the gym, and that is where I'm headed, but first I will tell you about my food plans for the day, those that have been accomplished and those to come.

In my garden and at the farmers market this morning, the herbs were bounteous. The idea of a store of fresh pesto led me to buy several bunches of basil and sage, and so now in my freezer are decent-sized vats of basil pesto and sage pesto. Gorgeous! Fab! Yum! I grilled some Chinese 5-spice seasoned radicchio for lunch and enjoyed that with some goat cheese, Sungolds from my garden and some super-duper aged balsamic syrup. Delicious. Then I made the mojo sauce in which I'll marinate steaks later for the carne tacos we're having as part of dinner. I'm also going to make an avocado salad with crab and/or lobster dressed with a grapefruit sabayon, and for dessert we're going to indulge in a gorgeous pluot tart topped with dollops of mascarpone-whipped cream. Beyond amazing, yes?

To the treadmill I go.

Apricot muffins hit the spot

These were lovely, lovely, lovely! My youngest heathen was up at 4:30 screaming for milk. I did not oblige, and I think he fell back asleep. Both were up around 5:30, and it's been a fairly nutty morning ever since. Over-tired infighting has been the irritating norm, and I am not looking forward to the next few hours. Tom slept in the basement to start his Father's Day off right, and I'm glad he did because I feel like arse, and he does not. Oh, father's day. Aren't most days fathers' days? Perhaps I'm being snarky, but really. Jack suggested we institute a Son's Day. I think not because every day is definitely son's day. Have mercy.

Anyway, I'm going to take the heathens to the farmers market which is not going to be relaxing but the biggest treat in the world is to have your home to yourself, so I want to give T a few hours of peace.

We're home, yum pasta dinner

I will be honest in telling you that our drive home today felt looonng. The trip was great, but by 6.5 hours in to our return, we were all dying to get out of the car. Holy moly. Anyway, the kids could not have had more fun. I was repeatedly struck by the fact that although there were six adults and four children (under the age of 6) in one house, there was no tension but rather a lovely sense of relaxation, ease and community. As hokey as it often sounds, raising kids in a "village" is so much easier, is so good for them, their parents and grandparents. As I was lucky to grow up by my grandparents and some extended family, my boys are now equally benefited by growing up near some of theirs, Tom's parents. But this week was a slightly different dynamic in that there were not only other grown-ups around, but also other kids, another whole nuclear family. I wondered how my two sons would interact with their two girl cousins, one 2, one just 7 months, neither of whom they really knew at all. But as in Italy where play trumped language as the real bond among children, here too it won out. The boys thought the baby was darling and "so nice." They found the 2 year old to be such a fun and good sport, and I do believe she was the only one who could really tolerate - enjoy?!- their incessant talking. Meanwhile, the adults filled in where needed, enjoying the kids in every way from one-on-one interactions to watching them from afar. Someone cooked, another cleaned. Some gave baths while others read stories and got kids into bed. It didn't require any sort of negotiation or even any real dialogue (although I will say there was a rather pronounced gender difference re proactive helping); it just worked, and I really found that to be a special experience.

It's always nice to get home though, too, and get everyone back into the routines to which they're used. Today is Percy's 7th birthday, so we fussed over him and gave him an extra supper. Oliver was happy to be back in his crib, Jack to have his array of books on tape to listen to as he nods off. I couldn't keep myself from cooking dinner so made a summery farro linguine which really hit the spot: corn, green onions, lots of basil, pecorino, lemon zest, garlic. Off to catch up on more TV -Don Draper, you better not go home with any bar chicks next season- and get a good night's sleep. Happy Father's Day to all you dads out there!