Parenthood is about sacrifices. Like having to put your hand in the sticky bag of raisins. Worst sensation ever. And unless you were a cowboy prior to becoming a parent, you are grossly under-prepared for changing a toddler’s diaper, which is not so much different than cattle wrestling, I imagine. Cattle wrestling may actually be preferable.

Obviously there are other sacrifices made, like lack of sleep and permanent dark circles under the eyes, constantly finding dried pieces of food to the back of your clothing, never eating a hot meal….or chewing your food.

But the sacrifices are worth it because these crazy, amazing tiny humans are so funny.

The other day, when Jack was getting dressed, I suggested that he may not want to wear a plaid shirt with plaid shorts (oh, the nerve I have!), he declared that they matched perfectly (sound logic).

Me: “People usually don’t wear plaid with plaid, Jack.”

Jack: “Why not? Look! It DOES match!”

Me: “Because it’s a little busy.”

Jack: (indignant) “What! No one says ‘busy’ to me!”

Needless to say, no one gives that boy fashion advice.

The other day I was having a particularly rough life with the little monsters boys, and at the end of my frayed nerves while cooking dinner I sent the fighting hellions darlings to the couch for a timeout. I YELLED. As their arguing and screaming dissolved into tears over their shared fate of incarceration on the couch, I turned back to my bacon-and-lemon-roux I was attending on the stove and couldn’t help smiling to myself that perhaps they would bond over their hysterical sobbing (which was sounding a little ridiculous), and sure enough a few whisks of the roux later, I heard those caterwauling wails turn to giggling.

The lesson learned here is: A roux cannot afford to be left unattended.

I poured all my angst and desperation into that bacon-grease-based-roux-with-lemon. The dish was this Tortellini Spinach Bake, and it turned out quite nicely, of course the ungrateful wretches adorably picky eaters wouldn’t touch it.