A frikkin' miracle worker

I am not above bribery.  In fact, in my Mother of the Year application, my platform is "Bribery gets ya more sleep."  In my honest opinion, it doesn't hurt to persuade your kids to do things YOU want to do by offering them something THEY want in exchange.  "You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" is a very real life application that should be taught at home.

In my dishonest opinion:  I don't bribe The Daughters - they always do what I want them to do when I want them to do it.

Bribery was the case last week as I took The Daughters out to try and capture that perfect picture for our Christmas cards.  I'm not sure why, after 10 years of mommahood, I convince myself that I can get the perfect picture - maybe I shouldn't have margaritas for breakfast anymore!

As we made our way to a gorgeous setting west of town, I made my bribery... no, my offering.  "OK, girlies, if I can get complete cooperation out of you all for about 30 minutes, I will make you a milkshake when we get home!"

Daughter 1, the future lawyer, said, "Momma, does it have to be complete cooperation?  Because if it does, you are setting us up to fail.  And that's ..." (say it with me - the international battle cry of children the world over), "NOT FAIR!"

OK, fine. I would have to qualify this, "IF, by the end of the afternoon, I am not looking up phone numbers for the closest orphanage, then I'll make you milkshakes."

And wouldn't ya know it - we had a great afternoon!  I got several shots of The Daughters looking like they'd only ever touched each other in a loving and gentle manner.  Their faces stayed clean and their hair stayed done and our wits stayed intact.  As we piled in the minivan to return home, Daughter 2 said, "Momma, can we stop by QT to get our milkshakes?"

Damn straight it was good!

"Honey," I reminded her, "I am making you a milkshake at home."

"You tricked us!" she cried.  "I never would have smiled pretty if I had known you weren't going to get us a real milkshake!"

I reminded her that I never said "buy"; I distinctly said, "make".

She recruited her future legal counsel.  "Sissy, didn't she say she'd buy us one."

Daughter 1 was thoughtfully quiet and then she asked me, "Are we for sure getting a milkshake?  Because if we are, I'm totally agreeing with her.  If it's still being decided, then you are completely right, Momma."  I hope she's not a wimpy environmental lawyer when she grows up.

"Listen to me," I said in a calm voice, "I said I'd make you a milkshake.  I don't know why this is such a big deal.  I've made you milkshakes before.  And I'm making you one today!"

Daughter 2 pouted all the way home, huffing and puffing.  Daughter 1 still wasn't convinced that I wouldn't jerk the dream of a milkshake from her, so she sat quietly humming along with the Christmas music I was blaring through the minivan.

When we got home, Daughter 2 stood at the edge of the kitchen with her little arms crossed over her heaving chest. "Well, Momma, let's see it!"

So, I got out the blender and I got out the ice cream and I got out the milk.  I asked Daughter 2 to hand me the chocolate syrup to which she replied, "OH no, ma'am.  You said you could make milkshakes and you'll get NO help from me!"  Really.

I dumped it all in the blender and blended away.  When the mixture wasn't too thick to suck through a straw but wasn't thin enough to drink without one, I poured the milkshakes into the glasses and topped them with whipped cream and colored sprinkles.  I stuck a straw in  the glass and passed it off to a squinty-eyed Daughter 2.

She took a long, slow draw of the straw and swallowed.  Then she took another swig and swallowed again, nodding her head.  She looked up at me and said, "Momma," and she took another slurp before finishing, "You are a frikkin' miracle worker!"

Mother of The Year right here, my friends!