Sardine Rillettes / Tales from the Minivan

I am sure most of y’all know that I have three daughters. Three beautiful, smart and funny daughters that drive me insane. At the moment I have a 13, 11 and 6-year-old. My 13 year old just finished a year of broody/angsty pre-teen behavior only to pass the baton to her sister. I swear it was like she woke up one day and said “Well I have had a good run but it’s your turn now” and my 11 year old answered, “I got this! I’ve been planning my attack for months now." Heres  A glimpse into a day in the life with three daughters.

The madness usually starts at school pick up. First, we pick up my sweet, precious 6 year old. That tiny thing is grippingher backpack which is almost as big as her, with a big grin on her face, is ready to tell me all about her day. Before she has one foot in the mini-van she’s talking. Your first reaction is “How did I go all day without hearing this precious voice." Then as the minutes roll by you realize she’s not going to stop. How does she keep going? Is there an off switch? Does she even stop to breathe? She’s so damn cute though. You can’t bear to tell her to be quiet so you sit there answering her endless questions and constantly confirming that yes I am listening. As we slowly accept that she will never cease and your brain will slowly start to melt, here they come. The big girls.

First enters the 13-year-old. Imagine a small female version of Kramer lumbering into a mini-van. It's like she has no bones. The door slides open and its just arms and legs flailing around while she makes random exclamations that make absolutely no sense. I wonder if it's even English sometimes. “Ugh, Mom, Madison was all like, and I was like, Mr. Benton was all you do this and I was all I can’t!!!, what am I going to do... Ooh, guess what? Sonya is a Diamond.” None of it, not one part makes any sense. Which I inform her. “Gah Mom, you know what I am saying”. No child, I don’t. No one does. Only your fellow 13-year-old aliens can understand this cryptic middle school language.

Behind her, as slowly as humanly possible enters the 11-Year-Old. The minute she’s in the car she’s complaining and judging. We aren’t sure how a middle-aged, entitled, wealthy women took over her body. "Mom, you need a new bra.” “6 Year Old, don’t eat your cookie like that.” “13 Year Old, you need to fix your hair”. The declarations! My god the pretentious declarations! “I am only driving a pink convertible.” “If the house isn’t a two story with a pool then what’s the point." All she wanted for Christmas? A pink, vintage mini fridge. You know so she didn’t have to leave her room to hang amongst the peasants. The madness continues as we drive home in our fancy dancy 1999 dodge Mini-van.

We get home and the exit is just as epic as the entrance. 6 Year Old is still chatting away as she gets cut off by 13 Year Old’s rolling tumbling exit from the car as 11 Year Old slowly exits the minivan with a look of disappointment that yes this is still our house.

We continue with our afternoon with homework. My very spoiled kids telling me what they would prefer for dinner (I have built my own food snobs. Just know once you make them different meals every night it gets hard to phone it in with frozen pizza, my children are not above requesting a three-course meal on a Wednesday.) Then the fighting starts. The two oldest fight over the most ridiculous things. Just this week they got into a yelling match over frozen peas. It ended with my kitchen floor covered in my Costco size bag of frozen peas and 11 Year Old screaming “Lies! You're full of lies, Liiiieeesss!!!” What the hell could have happened over frozen peas that would cause this much drama.

Fast forward to the end of the night and I am yelling at them to go to bed and 13 Year Old yells back “She says I am Pearl, tell her to stop, I am not salty she’s salty, your salty, she's a Pearl, you're a pearl” Yeah if you can make sense of that sentence I’ll buy you a bottle of wine. I usually retreat to my porch only to be followed by my tiny stalkers. First, 6 Year Old sits down and goes on a 15-minute speech about every single teddy she owns and their backstory. 13 Year Old then comes sliding out the door -y’all I am not kidding she enters every room like Kramer trained her himself, - as she slowly stops flailing she exclaims some ridiculous comment about someone I don’t know and then looks at me with her giant eyes filled with disbelief, that I don’t get it. 11 Year Old comes sauntering out in an outfit right out of a magazine, hair, and makeup completely done like she has a charity event to attend later and is waiting for her driver to pick her up. She asks some flippant statement like “ Mother, we should discuss my birthday party, I need to get my guest list together.” What?!

But in between all this craziness, there are a lot of laughs. No matter which stage, or how bad the day at least once a day we all break out in communal laughter. They may drive me crazy but I built my own crazy and I love it. Not many get people get to pick there fellow patients in an insane asylum, don’t save me, I have found my people. I chose this recipe because it sounds a little nuts, yet it makes sense in its own way. Like this family it’s simple, salty and your not sure why you like it but you know you want more.