I know, I’ve become a dork. My mom status is complete along with my Pinterest account, my well worn Danskos, and wardrobe of yoga pants that haven’t seen a class in over a year. How big of a dork? Our kids have been exchanging illnesses like baseball cards and I’ve been popping supplements like a Cryogenic waitlister. Yeah, that paranoid and dorky.
So when I heard that there was a measles outbreak at Disneyland I started a Pinterest board titled “Disaster Preparedness” and restocked our medicine and linen cabinets because I know there’s an earthquake coming our way some day too soon, I know people don’t get vaccinated, and I believe our climate is permanently changed. This dork of a mom is going to make sure there’s enough boardgames, granola bars, wet wipes, dried fruit, band-aids, and liquor to keep us all sane if the shit hits the fan.
Our baby can’t get the measles shot for another two weeks when he turns one and we’ve been effectively quarantined for two months over the holidays due to bronchitis and ear infections. So we’ve already had a dry run of disaster preparedness of sorts in itself and it taught me how important certain items are to our family, those are, but are not limited to:
I’m pretty sure the kids would sell everything short of us and the house to watch Sesame Street, Peg & Cat, and that evil motherfucker Daniel Tiger. I don’t blame them, I blame Daniel and Netflix because Mama & Papa would go something, something without it. I know, the Internet will probably not be accessible but I’m already studying up on generators and solar power so we can still run a dvd on something.
Nuts and bread products.
Thank the sweet baby jeebus for grocery delivery and prunes. If Jamie and I were to drop dead I wouldn’t be surprised if our kids would try to move in with the squirrel family in the frontyard cedars. They fight over toast like zombies after a newly discovered cache of brains and cleaning up Owen’s morning post-breakfast diaper is like pulling a core sample from an ancient sewer and finding a sack of birdseed. The only thing I fear more than a Republican ran government is the future they might doom us to that would result in me not being able to provide my children with peanut butter.
Our chicken coop keeps our household sustainable in many ways. It provides an effective form of composting, a safe source of organic protein in our food, entertainment for the kids and passerbies, control the insect population in our yard, and (my personal favorite) pisses off the neighbors we don’t like. (We give eggs to the ones we do like. Thank you for understanding, Liane.) If the world ends, at least I can go out eating fried chicken.
To say we have cuddly kids is an understatement. I used to refer to Nora as our barnacle baby and, so far, Owen isn’t too far off. In addition, we’re a family of picky sleepers. If a zombie apocalypse befalls us I think I might just insulate our hideout in memory foam. That way if they chew through they can have us but at least we’ll go out in comfort and well rested. If they don’t chew through – well, at least we can sleep in a jumbled jungle of limbs and peanut butter sandwiches.
If I really want to drive my point home when I’m disciplining Nora, I either take away screen time or her Rhody. That girl will ride her horse around the house for hours and only stop for meals and mad dashes to her potty. Grandma got us adult size ones for Christmas to keep up with her and we get worn out after only thirty minutes. I think my body is only built for cuddles any more.
Applesauce, honey, and coconut.
Together, alone, in combination -doesn’t matter. Those three ingredients plus nuts and bread could support us for a long time or at least through our self imposed quarantine thanks to Disneyland. (Sidebar, I wonder if patient zero feels any guilt for potentially harming so many people, “Happiest place on Earth” my ass.) Besides, any of the three taste great with peanut butter while we ride our Rhodies, pelt the infidels with chicken poop, and watch Daniel Tiger.