Did you know that duck eggs are good for baking? Neither did I, but my wife sure knew. In fact, she was so convinced, that she had to have a dozen immediately. I’m talking midnight or after. Duck eggs must be purchased now!
Perhaps I should explain. Anyone living with children in the house can and will attest that anything can and does happen at any time. If that’s not enough of a sentence to frighten those of you without children, then read on. Here are more sentences that will give you, loyal reader, a glimpse into what goes on in my house in the evenings.
Scene: Inside the house, living room dimly lit, pellet stove blazes.
Date: Evening, December 20, 2023
Plot: Organized(!) chaos with two parents and two boys (aged 9 and 7)
Dinner having been finished, Ted (7) runs to the bathroom to poo and comes back to the living room with no clothes on. Although mom, dad, and older brother tell him to get dressed, he laughs while making fart noises with his mouth as he slaps himself on his bare right butt cheek. He climbs on the couch, with tape and fishing line to construct a zip line that our house elf (Barky) can play on when he arrives tonight. As he is engineering and constructing said line, Ted provides a running commentary of his thoughts out loud. Older brother Tim is tossing a nerf football to himself in the living room dangerously close to the Christmas tree and zip line so Ted keeps yelling at Tim to “stop please messing up my engineering project!” Mom is on the couch and dad is watching the action, amused but tired and ready to stretch out in bed at the conclusion of Jeopardy, which is on TV. Mom and dad yell out wrong answers while Tim and Ted occasionally take a few stabs at the difficult questions. Try explaining the following Jeopardy category to your children: “potent potables.”
Anyway, the show ends and although I tell the kids it’s time to brush and do books, no one listens to me so I head down the hall to brush my teeth. Everything I do requires help, so Tim follows me (without me asking…he’s so great) to get my toothbrush for me. I tell my wife that I am ready to stretch out in bed (she needs to put me in a sling/lift and move me over). No response. She’s delayed and distracted by her phone. The kids are still running around and Ted is still naked, so by the third time I tell them it’s time to brush, I am no longer kind. There’s a tone of voice and then there’s a tone of voice (haha).
Vanessa comes into the room and explains that she is “texting with a woman who will sell us and bring us some duck eggs and isn’t that great?” Five minutes ago, the living room was covered with fishing line, kids were running around and now we are at duck eggs. Being the person that I am (male), I don’t always listen closely to what my wife is talking about, but I’m quite sure I haven’t heard about duck eggs.
“What the hell is this? Duck eggs? Here we are trying to get the kids to chill, and I am waiting for your help and you are texting some lady about duck eggs at 8 o’clock at night?”
Vanessa: “Woah. Wait, I’m not your hired PCA (personal care attendant). I don’t have to do your set schedule. The woman works at night and she’s going to drop the duck eggs off, so I wanted to make sure I leave some cash in the mailbox for her. Wait, I’ll Venmo her.” (grabbing phone again)
Me: “Tonight? Like, right now? Are you going to make eggs or something? Can I get out of the chair and into bed first? Duck eggs? Why does this feel like a sketchy drug deal? You’re gonna put a fiver in the mailbox for a duck egg drop?”
One of the kids: “Imagine what it looks like to see a big duck egg drop out of the mom’s butt?”
The other kid: “I don’t think the egg comes from the butt. Mommy, when we were born, it’s not from the butt right? Because then we would permanently smell like farts. Right mommy?”
Mom and dad: no response
Me: “This is sketchy.”
Vanessa: “I told you this: duck eggs are great for baking and I am baking more stuff before Christmas. The woman has to work tonight so she can bring them by. I’m going to Venmo her now. It’s a dozen for $5. That’s good.” (who knew? Did she google: price of a dozen duck eggs? Sounds like the title of a King Crimson record…)
Me: “Should I set my alarm for midnight, so when the duck eggs arrive you can bake duck cookies tonight by the light of a candle?”
Vanessa: “Wow. Really? Really? If I wasn’t here, you wouldn’t eat.”
A kid: “That’s true daddy, but mommy, you can’t bake at midnight because that’s when Barky does his magic and he won’t use the zip line if you’re out near it. You will scare away his magic. (mouthing fart sounds). Look, I’m making duck eggs for my balls. I have duck egg balls.”
Me: “I think I’m going out. I’ll be at the bar.”
Vanessa: (lifting me into bed with the powered lift) “Go ahead. Good luck getting out of bed.”
Me: “Don’t worry, I’ll be home for the duck egg soup cookies. Side of regular eggs? Scrambled?”
Vanessa: “You’re not funny. I’m not even listening to you.”
A kid: “Can we stay up late? I want to play with the duck eggs.”
Both parents: “NO! Bed time….everyone upstairs. Night night.”
Me: “This life is great. Pellet stove fire, I played Uno with the kids, Jeopardy, a naked zip line, while Tim throws a football to himself over and over. And we have duck eggs.”
Vanessa: “Not yet.”
Epilogue:
One dozen duck eggs were in our mailbox this morning. The woman didn’t come by until 1AM. They are in the fridge, and although I have no idea what they will turn into, I am 100% sure that it will be yummy because Vanessa cooks like McGyver. In my fridge, I see a bottle of ketchup, a lemon and some salad dressing and in the same fridge she sees steak tip skewers on the grill. With duck eggs. Fire it up!
It’s chaos over here. And I love it.
Happy holidays. Thank you for staying awesome, staying safe, and staying tuned.
Patrick moeschen 