Things They Can't Say: The Mommy Therapy

Leslie, from The Mommy Therapy, has three kids 5 and under. She's honest, sarcastic, and hilarious. I'm thrilled she was willing to share a recipe-ish here: and you get to see what on earth that is-trust me, you'll love it. Please welcome her as this week's featured guest.

We have a serious problem on my cul-de-sac.

 

It's scary. I'm not sure how this is going to go down, but there will be tears and there will shame.

 

Most likely from me making a total ass of myself, but that's not important.

 

Teenagers have moved in at the end of my street and what used to be one teen that could be weakened with a glare and a fist shake has turned in to six, yes six, driving teens and all their punk friends.

 

Fine, I don't know that they are all punks but chances are good that I'm right.

 

I remember being a teenager like it was yesterday. I was 17, driving my Honda Prelude around town with my girlfriends, sipping soda pop, driving slowly through residential areas and always lowering the volume on my Cypress Hill when I drove by small humans. I always gave my boyfriend an enthusiastic handshake and a non-chest touching hug before heading inside my house, never past 10.

 

I think I skipped rope a lot too.

 

I'm reasonably confident this is an accurate memory.

 

Recently these kids, it's important to add the "these" so they sound more guilty, are speeding up and down the cul-de-sac at all hours of the day and night. They are making out in their parked car close to midnight when they should be inside making friendship bracelets to show the opposite sex how much they care. Then the other day one of them threw a half-empty, or half-full if you are feeling positive about this situation, Sonic milkshake cup out of the window of their car right in front of me.

 

I am 5'4 and 120 pounds of fierce rage; they must be some bold ass kids.

 

I even gave them the traditional "What the hell?" gesture of raising my arms with upturned palms into a V, I'm sure you know exactly what I mean. They didn't even turn to show me that they were scared, much less stop and pick up their trash while begging for forgiveness like they should have.

 

What is a suburban Mom of three to do?

 

There are nine kids under the age of 10 on this cul-de-sac. Since I'm on the corner, I feel a strong sense of responsibility to protect my street. If you aren't familiar with the corner house's level of responsibility you need to read up on your neighborhood's HOA rules, I'm sure it's in there....or I might have made it up, I can't be sure.

 

Either way, action must be taken!

 

I decided I must try to connect with someone that these kids could relate to in their irresponsibly youthful state. So, I felt like my only option was to write a recipe-ish for Mac & Cheese for Ke$ha and ask her advice.

 

Clearly there was no other way.

 

If you've never read a recipe-ish, you might be wondering if maybe I'm insane, or a recreational drug user, but you are wrong. I'm just doing what the little voices inside my head are telling me to do.

 

I write to a different person every week, giving them a recipe...sort-of. Here are some of my previous recipe-ish posts. Here or here or here.

 

Let's just get this party started. I think that's what Ke$ha would say.

 

Dear Kesha,

 

I hope you'll forgive me for leaving off the '$' in your name and going with the more traditional 's'. I tried to keep typing it, but it's annoying. Or ridiculous. Or annoying.

 

Seriously, what is going on there?

 

I really connect to your music though. Some other very enthusiastic Moms and I danced the night away at a wedding recently to your "We R Who We R" song and that "Tik Tock" hit.

 

(Sidenote: I know you earned your GED, but your spelling concerns me for the validity of that program. Would it be so difficult to spell the word 'tick' correctly? I can only assume you texted the title of these songs to someone and there was a miscommunication about shorthand versus actual spelling of the title. LOL.)

 

I'm sure some women in their late 30s jamming to your songs were exactly what you were imagining when you wrote about brushing your teeth with a bottle of Jack or boys trying to touch your junk. Motherhood is rough; you obviously were trying to reach out to us. It worked! These situations are our lives.

 

I felt like you were holding a mirror up to me when you wrote about wearing hot pants, eye glitter, and stockings ripped all up the sides. That screams carpool line and poopy diapers.

 

Fine, perhaps these topics are slightly outside my current life, and at times I find you mildly offensive, but you do make some great dance music. I also think you could do a bang up job with my current problem.

 

("Bang up" means good. Do people your age use that phrase? Do people my age use that phrase?)

 

You must really resonate with the teens these days. I read that you didn't really fit in during high school because you wore purple velvet pants and stuff like that, it must be nice to now be a role model for young women, encouraging the masses to wear hot pants and ripped stockings. You've come far. Congratulations.

 

Would you like a chance to reconnect with some teens in my hood?

 

I'm sure you are a little idea factory with all your creative spelling and allegedly ad lib rapping about getting drunk and other equally intellectual topics, so I thought you might think of a way to help school the teens on my street.

 

While you are thinking, I've come up with a few options of my ideas of how you could help to really transform these teens’ thoughts on their behavior.

 

In exchange for your assistance I've written you a delicious, though pretty ambiguous, recipe for Mac & Cheese that I make for my kids. I figured you might like it since you were born in the late 80s....which really has nothing to do with anything other than the fact that it makes me feel old.

 

Here are my ideas.

 

• You pen a slammin' hit (I assume this is appropriate usage of the adjective "slammin'") about driving safety in neighborhoods and/or how much it would cramp a teens style to oh...say, run over a kid.
• You lend me some of your concert wardrobe so that I could wear it at the end of my driveway while holding a large, "STOP YOUR HEAVY PETTING BECAUSE THIS WILL BE YOU SOMEDAY SOON" sign, hoping that the fact that I haven't worn a bra and my boobs are closer to the belly than my shoulders, and my scary pregnancy spotted face makes me look more like a serial killer than their friendly neighbor, will end their late night car humping. A little glimpse at motherhood, and how you cannot under any circumstances wear hot pants regardless of your fitness level after three kids, might get me some sympathy mixed with raw fear for their late night make out sessions.
• You and I perform your hit Tik Tok. You perform as yourself and I will act as JLo in a choreographed number that would BLOW THEIR MINDS. I figure this has no benefit to our cause, but it would be really fun for me. 
• You start a movement about how littering has nothing to do with, and actually is the complete opposite of, (in some random, not really connected, but make it seem connected sort of way,) youthful irreverence. I'm pretty sure youthful irreverence is every teen's goal and you mentioned once that your goal as an artist was to produce albums about that. On behalf of every parent, thank you by the way.

 

These are just me thinking out loud. The first things flying out of my head. You brainstorm a little and let's talk.

 

While that's percolating a bit, let's talk Mac & Cheese.

 

My mother never made the Kraft box kind, because she loved me.

 

(I'm totally joking, but perhaps I just started a song for you? You. Are. Welcome.)

 

My Mom didn't make the box kind because she took a nutrition class in 1968 that she can't stop talking about and the box was not mentioned in said class. Hence...I have a strong love for bubbly baked Mac & Cheese.

 

My children do not share this love; probably because I never took that class.

 

My kids like the sauce poured over noodles variety....but they don't like the box kind because they are really smart and have new and diverse ways to make every single day challenging.

 

Hooray devious children!

 

So, this is what I make them and they usually love it. They always devour the whole thing.

 

Except when they don't and decide that they hate it, but that's how kids are...which is why you and every other child between 14-25 should probably put on a turtleneck and and some high waisted wool pants and whip up friendship bracelets until you are ready to take on children.

 

(Another song topic? Turtlenecks and wool pants are so HOT, here's a bracelet! Genius.)

 

Here's what you need:

 

1 Bag spiral pasta. (I know there is a real name for them, but all the kids these days are calling them spirals. Work it into a song. I am basically a hit factory for you.)
2-3 tablespoons butter
2-3 tablespoons flour
1-2 cups milk - live dangerously and use the whole milk
2 cups shredded Velveeta - do not be scared by the fact that the package calls this a cheese product and not just cheese. It's perfectly "natural."
1 cup Cheddar

 

I'm going to be honest about something Kesha. I am not too sure on any of the amounts except the noodles, the butter, and the Velveeta. Everything else I change each time I make it. There is a lot of room for creativity in this, which is why I like making it.

 

See what happens when you have kids? Your creative outlet is now mixing dairy products over medium-low heat in the hopes that small people will like it. Can you mention this to my neighbors?

 

Let's cook.

 

First, boil a big pot of salted water. My Mom doesn't believe in salting the water though (damn that '68 nutrition class!) so try not to make this when you guys are hanging out.

 

Add the noodles and follow the package directions for how long they should cook. I assume zero responsibility for the noodles.

 

Actually, I assume zero responsibility for any of this. It's a recipe-ish. The ish gets me out of any liability.

 

Seriously, I took the LSATs back in '04, I know what I'm talking about here.

 

After the noodles are done, drain them and put them back in the empty pot.

 

Hold it! I forgot to ask you the question that has been burning in my brain since I heard of you.

 

What is up with you tour being called the "Get Sleazy Tour?"

 

Seriously, you are not making my kind happy with that shit. I can't even imagine how much my husband will dislike you once Stella is trying to squeeze into hot pants.

 

Sorry for all the questions, I became spontaneously concerned.

 

Back to the cooking.

 

Get a medium size saucepan and melt the butter over medium-low heat. Add the flour and whisk it around until it's smooth.

 

(I could seriously crank out some hits. "Whisk it around until it's smooth?" I'm basically writing your next album for you.)

 

Add more flour or butter if there is excessive clumping or if it still looks like liquid butter.

 

Slowly stir in about a cup of the milk while you constantly whisk.

 

Keep whisking.

 

Add the cheese. Velveeta first and whisk until it is smooth. Now judge the consistency. Is it getting thicker or too milky?

 

Add 1/2 the cheddar first and then wait for that to become smooth. Now reevaluate.

 

See how complicated it is to be a Mother?

 

You can add more milk if it is too thick, or cheese if too milky.

 

Once you have a smooth, thick-ish sauce turn off the heat. Pour the sauce over the cooked noodles and stir it all around.

 

Voila!

 

I serve this to my kids with ham because they like ham. I find ham disgusting, unless it is on an Egg McMuffin of course, so I usually serve it with a large salad and a healthy glass of red wine for myself and my husband.

 

Did you come up with any good ideas for my teen issue during that?

 

I did. You are basically worthless to me right now.

 

Ask them to park outside the cul-de-sac and walk down the street?

 

Set up cardboard cut-outs of various children and dogs on the street that pop up spontaneously when they drive by, hoping the sudden fear they experience will be enough to change their behavior?

 

Talk to the Mom? HaHaHaHa....HaHaHaHa. (That's laughter. Wait. LOL) She would probably stab me.

 

I'll be making Mac & Cheese, glaring, and doing the "What the Hell" gesture until I hear from you.

 

Oh, by the way, I heard you are getting ready to write a “cock-rock album.” I don't know what that is exactly, but I'm, as a parent, already a little pissed at you. As a wedding guest, I can't wait!

 

Oh, and I was asked not to thank Shell for letting me guest post on her awesome blog today, but perhaps you could churn out a tune about that? Something with a drum solo and lyrics about sharing or kicking boys’ asses. It would mean a lot to me.

 

Muchas gracias.

 

Oh....a Spanish album!

 

 

Please leave Leslie some comment love here and then go follow her blog The Mommy Therapy and find her on twitter @TheMommyTherapy.