As the More is More Mom, I am all about … more mixing things up. When the kids were little, Chuck’s hours permitted for him to be home every day by 3:15 p.m. Seriously, these kids were just finishing their afternoon snack by the time he walked in the door. Those were the days …
While being self-employed meant that Chuck could almost never miss a day of work, much less take a real vacation, we had him for what mattered most to us, which was our everyday life. Most dads have more conventional work schedules, but Chuck’s suited us just fine. With him being home so early, he really got to be a part of our home life; the good, the bad, and the ugly.
You know how much I like to have fun, so the kids were forever bebopping back and forth with friends. With a motto like mine, more of everything is always better, clearly extending to the quantity of friends as well, we always had a house full. Nick and the fellas loved to play baseball in our backyard. They wore out the grass at the pitchers mound, home plate, and first base. The boys were always so sweet to allow Amanda to get in on the action too, one boy remarking to the others, “Don’t get Sis out.” She would prefer to hit off the tee much to Nick’s distress. He maintained that she would never get any better if she didn’t take the pitch, and he was perfectly willing to pitch her a thousand balls for the sake of authenticity (like mother, like son). Amanda, of course, had no desire to ever take the pitch, forever happy to hit off the tee, which always lead to a heated debate (otherwise known as … .the ugly). It was great that Chuck was home to umpire/referee the game before there was a bench clearing brawl.
We were lucky that Chuck almost never missed a hockey, basketball, baseball, or track practice, much less games, which is a good thing because Nick always likes us to be watching. Every time he would take the ice, step up to the free-throw line, approach the batters box, or take his position at the starting line, he glanced up to make sure we were watching, and naturally we were. At the ripe old age of eighteen, his still makes sure we never miss a shift, and we never would.
Not only was he home for practices, but he was always home for dinner. Some nights we would eat dinner at 4:30 p.m. because of Nick’s hockey practices, but that’s okay. The most important part was that we were together. As the homemaker, the only downside to one’s husband always being home was that men typically like a real meal for dinner. You know the drill: salad, meat, potatoes, vegetables, dessert … for twenty years. That’s a lot of four-course meals.
Well, the other night, Chuck went out to dinner and to the Hawks game with some of the fellas. I turned to both my pals (high school students now; practically grown-ups) and suggested breakfast for dinner. Amanda said, “OMG! That’s exactly what I was thinking!” Nick asked, “Can we have chocolate chip pancakes and scrambled eggs?” Sure! The sky’s the limit. How about bacon too? We got the eggs cracking, the bacon sizzling, the toast toasting and the maple syrup drizzling. While the cats away, the mice will play. It was delightful!
More comfort food, more tasty goodness, more being in cahoots … together!