So I had another moment of weakness in which I again attempted to "be a good mom" (whatever the hell that means, I've officially decided if you're feeding them, clothing them, and not beating their asses too often, you're a "good mom").
Our new backyard has orange trees. Lots of them. This brings an incredible amount of joy to the children. Big Kid climbs up and shakes the branches, and little kid runs around with his wheelbarrow and tries to catch the oranges before Lily does.
The problem is that there is a finite number of oranges. New oranges take a while. The kids cannot comprehend this and strip the trees of any sign of the color orange on a daily basis. Then they beg me to feed them the oranges, most of which are not ripe enough or have been punctured by the dog. I do oblige when I think the oranges look remotely edible, but it's a total pain in the ass for me.
Their big time dream is orange juice. Big Kid insists we need 18 oranges to make orange juice, and I have agreed on this recipe since it's unlikely we'll ever have 18 ripe oranges at one time. Today I saw him out there straining to reach three oranges that had survived by clinging to the very top of tree, little kid waiting patiently below with his wheelbarrow.
You know what I did? I went out there with a broom, knocked the oranges loose, and brought them into the kitchen, dug out my hand juicer and made enough orange juice for two small glasses. I took the tiniest of sips and it was like heaven in a glass...so freaking good.
I called the kids in and presented them with their glasses of cool, sweet, refreshing orange juice and they were OVER-JOYED. Seriously, for a minute there, I was the best mom ever.
And then I went to the bathroom and little kid hit Big Kid with a metal pole and Big Kid spilled his entire glass. He was inconsolable, and there wasn't much I could do about it. little kid offered him his glass which seemed like the perfect answer until I realized that little kid had already drank his.
So I filled both cups up with a small amount of water and told them that now it was diluted orange juice, just like in the store.
Next time I'm going to put all of the juice in a chilled pilsner glass and drink every freaking drop myself, while they watch. If there's going to be crying or screaming either way, I may as well get some orange juice out of it.