Battle Hymns of a Hot Mess Mom

I am trying to be more present. Be there. YOLO. But I need to be honest I’m not a mom that likes to bake with their children. In fact, I short of hate it. I hate the mess and the complete disaster of a kitchen all in the name of “I can do it by myself Mama!” The f*ck you can…I don’t want to clean this up afterwards!” But she loves to bake and while it triggers me, I bake with her…reluctantly. But then afterwards I stare at the mess and I’m exhausted. We made cupcakes last night – blue ones – we didn’t have a box cake mix which I had hoped would deter her. Nope, not getting out of it that easily. So we found a recipe from scratch. I thought we had the right ratios of everything. I mean maybe we didn’t cause it did NOT turn out as either of us thought or hoped. It was a hot freaking mess. We baked it another 20 minutes longer than the recipe stated because the tops of the cupcakes weren’t cooked and looked bubbly. Not to mention the fact that they were blue. And it wasn’t an appetizing blue either, it was this neonish blue. Once they were baked it was her nonstop quest to make frosting, by that time the kitchen was a disaster and I was spent. I said we should have some in the pantry. Again hoping she would either find it and leave me alone about it or not find it and give up. One this is for sure my child doesn’t give up…she pushes through at every damn angle. “We have powdered sugar and butter!” she says as she digs through the pantry. “You don’t like buttercream!” I quickly respond back. She pokes her head out and says “I could ask Papa if we could go to the store and pick up heavy whipping cream.” Oh hell no. Let’s not give this sh*t show of a project more legs. “I’m not making whipped cream frosting. I don’t have it in me.” I state this quietly with a face knowing what her response to me will be. “I’ll make it Mama!” Sigh. When left unsupervised she gets easily get overzealous with the stand mixer and I will be cleaning up splatters of whipping cream in the kitchen all next week.

This isn’t to say I don’t love spending time with her. I love braiding her hair (as long as she keeps it to the braids I know how to do), putting hair masks in her hair and washing her hair (I got this contraption that washes her hair like the salon), and I even have the patience to blow dry her hair with the diffuser no less. But baking is such a hard pass for me yet it is her most favorite activity to do with me.

What is wrong with me? Why can’t I just enjoy the mess? I don’t know. I just absolutely have no joy baking with her. I have absolute no joy baking with anyone. Baking is a singular activity for me. But can it be? Can’t we do something other than baking together?

Her new mission today is going to the beach. She wants to show me her “surfing” skills. It’s her bodyboard but she calls it “surfing” and it’s not that I don’t want to watch her but being out in the sun right now isn’t exactly my jam. I barely have three hairs on my head and my skin is super sensitive. Yes, I could cover up from head to toe – and go to the beach. Would that be actually enjoyable for me…not particularly. But should I be denying her these activities? Making these memories? She would have great memories as I would struggle through and act like I was having a great time. How sh*tty am I that I don’t want to pretend to do that.

J dropped the bomb on her – we’re not going to the beach. She is now in her room with the shade drawn being grumpy. While I don’t want her to spend her Sunday grumpy – I also don’t want to do the things she does. Mother of the year right here!

How should a cancer mom act? I don’t know. Do I keep doing for the children or put my own damn mask on? A part of me feels – I owe my children every moment and every experience just in case. Another part of me feels – I have to take care of myself first so that I can be here for every moment. That’s the rub. Because when you’re healthy you say no because you just don’t want to. You’ve got other things that are more of a priority to do or simply going to the beach isn’t an activity you wish to do. But when you’re sick; you second guess if your decision is correct. If it’s the right thing to do because no suddenly the mortality of it all is squarely in your face. I don’t know what the right thing to do is. I don’t know how I should be acting. But I do know having her sulking in the room feels sucky.