Vanilla

Today, I was hit with a nice wave of "Good Mom Guilt".

If you're a Mom you know exactly what I'm talking about. The internal dialogue sounds something like this:

"If I was a good mom, I would have daily craft activities with my child, completely organized and beautiful.

If I was a good mom, I wouldn't feed my child grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch every day this week.

If I was a good mom, there would be no way that I would let my child watch two movies back to back, let alone have a TV. Because I would be doing daily crafts, letter recognition, music and dance activities.

If only I was a good mom....".

Today I felt that I should pass on my love for cooking and baking to my child. It is very important to me that he grows up with a love and respect for cooking and food. So he can whip up many delicious meals while he attends Harvard. Or Yale. I'm not picky.

It occurred to me that we had marshmallows in the pantry left-over from camping a few weeks back, and while at the store, noticed the Rice Krispies were on sale.

1+1= 2 aka Rice Krispie Squares!

Of all the things I could bake with my son, I figured that Rice Krispie squares were probably the easiest and most harmless. He was over the moon to help, especially as marshmallows are one of his most favorite things.

I am a bit (ok, a lot) of a kitchen control freak. You want to help? Set the table, do the dishes and clean up after dinner, but don't try and help me cook. It is a big stretch for me to have The Child in the kitchen with me and I am constantly learning patience, and that its ok if he tastes Baking Soda.

So there we were, melting marshmallows, measuring Rice Krispies, anticipating the yumminess to come. So far the whole experience was going along quite smoothly. I was also pretty excited to make a double batch and take some to a client meeting I was going to later that evening. Those little crisps of rice were all marshmallowy coated and ready to be smooshed into a pan, when I realized that I didn't have the pans out and ready to be filled. Dang. I turned my back for literally a matter of 2 seconds to grab the pans, to return and see The Child holding the bottle of Vanilla over the big pot of marshmallowy goodness.

"NO!" I scolded. "No, no, no... we don't need to add any of that, Mommy already added plenty!"

I breathed a huge sigh of relief, grabbed the bottle out of his hands, thanking my lucky baking stars that I had caught him before he poured.

Or at least I thought.

Just as I was about to put the marshmallow goodness into the pan, I was hit with a huge waft of Vanilla and alcohol. See, I don't just use the plain ol'vanilla extract. No, I purchase the real stuff. The Madagascar Bourbon Vanilla... the stuff that could make a happy hour, extra happy.

As I stirred the pot, I noticed at the bottom the huge puddle of Vanilla settling into the bottom. That's when I realized the bottle on the counter was not so full anymore. Amazing what children can do in the matter of milliseconds. Sigh.

Guess these were going to be "Adult Only" treats now and it didn't look like I would be taking them to the client meeting either. Nothing says "Hi, I'm your Doula" than handing a pregnant Mom alcohol-laden marshmallowy treats.

If I was a "Good Mom", I probably wouldn't have yelled at my Child for dumping in 10 times the amount of needed Vanilla.

And if I was a "Really Good Mom", I probably wouldn't have let him eat the extra Vanilla'd treats either.

So much for alleviating "Mom Guilt".