I've been peeling carrots for days. Days. Because Costco is huge and confusing, I accidentally bought the very large bag of organic carrots, instead of the regular pesticide-filled one. I'm a fan of organic and paying extra money for things that I may or may not really need to pay extra for, but I don't know. These organic carrots are very skinny. I would have thought the organic ones would be extra thick, like strong and healthy carrots who work in the fields and lift weights and all the things that the word organic makes me imagine in my brain . But no. So here I am, hoping to make quick prep work for a chicken soup because winter came last night, and I'm peeling All The Carrots.
While I've been peeling carrots, I've been looking around my kitchen at all the things I should probably clean out and rearrange and I noticed that my homework cart was in the kitchen. It shouldn't be, it lives in the dining room but someone (perhaps the little girl who rolls it around the house asking everyone if they'd like to buy a sandwich from her cart) left it in the kitchen and then I realized that I don't think I shared the homework cart here and really, it's a homework cart. This is exactly where it belongs.
So this past summer we rearranged some furniture and ever since, we've been working with one table - the dining room table. Everything happens there. Eating, art projects, board games, homework, all of it. The eating and board game parts have been pretty okay, although I wouldn't cry if maybe people would be a little better about putting their plates in the sink and putting the rummykub pieces back in the bag.
The homework and the arts and crafts sections of our lives, though, were not going well. There were pencils everywhere. Markers, crayons, scissors, glue, index cards, the stapler and the Hebrew-English dictionary were not on the table in an orderly fashion. They were strewn across the table and I found myself shoving it all to the middle so we could eat dinner. I didn't like that.
Enter Ikea. The savior for almost anything (anyone) organizationally challenged. Like me.
This rolling cart. I love it so much.
First, it's blue.
Second, it has three sections. One for the supplies, one for the three hole puncher and the binder filled with lined paper and the third level - the one that contains all the papers that everyone wants to show me while I want to be making dinner. Sometimes they even want to show me these papers while I am in the bathroom so they slide them under the door. I'm willing to bet money they do not do that to Josh.
These are not papers, mind you, that need to be signed or worked on. These are the papers that the kiddies complete in class and then because the teachers don't want to be the ones to have to throw them out, they come home in color-coded plastic folders that get dumped onto my couch.
It took about a week, but now they know.
All papers that do not require a parental signature get placed in the paper section of the cart, where I can look at them when I have a second.
My couch is clear (of papers. Not of laundry waiting to be folded. No one get too excited here).
My table is better, it's somewhat clear but I wouldn't call it empty. A miracle worker, I am not.
But I do have a cart.
I smile every time I see it.
It's the little things in life.
When you're six years old and yet somehow find the inner fortitude to go to first grade every single day, even when you really don't want to, you deserve a mini-treat.
And when you're eight years old and you are able to pull yourself out of the very special pity-party-for-one that you throw nightly, in honor of your chumash homework, you also deserve a treat.
Painting our nails seemed like a good treat. And also, another very easy parshat Noach activity. It's okay that's it's Sunday and the rest of the world has moved on to parshat Lech Lecha. We still have the yesterday's parsha questions on the table, so we're good.
Disregard my fat fingers and look at how cute these colors are.
Those little feet are pretty cute too.
This treat won't work for the boys though.
I might have to go bake cookies.
No bowl? Sounds crazy, right?
There was a time in my (early mommy-ing) life when I was all over the different parshat hashavua desserts - one year I built a Noah's ark out of rice-krispie treats and used all the little Fischer Price people and the animals as decorations. Another year I made six different colored frostings and made a rainbow cake. Once, I even recreated the seven days of creation on cupcakes. But that was a long time ago and this is now.
I still enjoy a long drawn out food project, but I find that I don't have the same kind of time these days. So in the spirit of fun rainbow treats for parshat Noach - and in no direct competition at all to any of the gorgeous rainbow challahs, cupcakes, layered cakes and colorful salads that are strewn across Facebook, pinterest, instagram and I have no idea where else, I present to you The Lazy (Wo)Man's Rainbow Challah.
Can I tell you a secret?
This challah? It wasn't even fresh. (shhhh....)
I did make challah this week but I forgot all about all the rainbow-y goodness until I checked Facebook this morning and staring back at me were so many pretty and colorful treats. I considered baking something but the oven is full, school ends in a two short hours and I'm in the middle of allergy-proofing my son's room because he tested positive for an allergy to dust mites this week and adding baking to the vacuuming and curtain dusting? No. Just no.
But. But! I did have an extra challah in the freezer from succos. I rebrushed it with some egg wash and added the sprinkles. I'm willing to bet money you could do the very same thing with a challah that you picked up at the bakery on the way to work. I know. Crazytown.
But you know what? Not crazytown. Because rainbows have lots of colors and whatever multi-step creation I'd choose to make would also make me many many bowls to wash. And people who don't wash their shabbos dishes until Monday (or maybe Tuesday (hi ma!)) do not need to add more dirty bowls to the sink.
And this? When you mix the egg wash in a plastic cup with a plastic fork, this becomes a no-bowl rainbow challah.
It's okay, you can say it. I love you too.
Are you a Mom?
Of course you are,
your shirt is dirty :)