Recipe for a Hot Mess

Recipe for a Hot Mess:

‘Motherhood Edition’

Serves: Everyone, all the time (plus baby). Prep Time: 9 months (sometimes a few weeks over.) Cook Time: One sleepless night, or ½ a day to reach 'Hot Mess' peak.

Ingredients:

Substitute with whatever seasoning you’re in (pregnancy, newborn, toddler, child, teenager, flying-the-nest).

1 cup of sick, snotty toddlers. Throw in baby spit-up for extra flavour.

4 heaped sink loads of dishes (bonus: if it’s Weet-bix or dried porridge).

2 overflowing hampers of dirty clothes—any type. A 'Hot Mess' isn’t picky: tomato sauce, poop, whatever.

1 generous pinch of never-ending guilt (homemade or kindly provided by mother-in-law).

½ tsp of time for yourself (rarely found).

2 bottles of spilled breast milk. Remember, don’t cry.

A sprinkle of crumbs everywhere—bed, bra, pram. NOTE: Avoid sand unless trying for 'Hot Mess: Dragon Edition.'

A dash of late-night romance. Interrupted.

An unhealthy amount of aching (feet, back, soul).

A ¼ cup of comparisons: “Dad does it better,” and “I only like when Grandma sings it.”

Optional:

If by a miracle there is more ‘Hot’ than ‘Mess’, here are some suggestions to help:

-Toilet seat left up late at night, preferably when it's cold.

-Red lipstick drawn on white walls.

-Unexpected visit from a family friend.

-Child eats something that could be toxic (but, I mean, they're still breathing… so they’ll be right).

Instructions:

1) Start by waking up—just kidding, you’ve already been up all night with sick kids and a gassy baby.

2) Tumble out of bed and tiptoe to the kitchen for coffee.

3) Reheat coffee and forget it 4–5 times before you scull it cold. Convince yourself, “It’s not that bad.”

4) Eat children’s leftover toast crusts (it’s not gross; we share DNA) while balancing a burping baby over your shoulder.

5) Change your shirt after the baby's spit-up misses the burp cloth you never use.

6) Clean the house as kids pull it apart. It’s a vicious cycle, though, worth it when you see them sharing their toys.

7) Separate children fighting over said toys, declare neutral territory: ‘outside time’.

8) Watch one YouTube mum vlog to feel less alone. Instead, you feel like a crap mum and start craving something called a Starbucks vanilla oat milk, double half-shot strawberry, decaf, something—hold the whipped cream. You don’t know what it is. But she sure looked happy drinking it.

9) Mix in some innocent toddler commentary: “Mum, why does your tummy look like a tiger and wiggle like a jelly-fish?”

10) Bite back the response: “Because you craved carrot cake and arrived two weeks late.”

11) Run errands in the car to your favourite songs: “She’s leaning on my side” followed by the screaming chorus of “I wanna go to Grandma’s house.”

12) Add a few scoops of temper tantrums in the shop. Smile and wave like you're not secretly dying inside.

13) Bribe the kid. OK? No judging. We’ve all been there—just bribe them, do what you gotta do to get yourself into the McDonald's drive-through for your fifth coffee of the day.

14) You will need 1-2 text messages from passive-aggressive friends, telling you something you don’t need to hear, right now.

15) But lucky you, your phone is on low battery. Valid excuse not to answer. (Also, no way to call for help when the car starts making strange sounds).

16) Throw your dinner into a mixer. Might as well—toddlers threw it everywhere anyway.

17) Stir the bath. Dunk one child, scrub-scrub, soap, dunk, repeat. x3

Remember: The key to baking a ‘Hot Mess’ is steady heat; you want her simmering, sweating (a little steam coming out of her ears), just enough that she’s checking the time to see how soon she can put the kids to bed.

18) A 'Hot Mess' is never without bodily injury, so go ahead—step on a Lego. Is there anything worse?

19) Combine 2 goodnight kisses, 1 lullaby, and 3 potty visits into one big bowl of bedtime.

Finale presentation tips:

Pour yourself a glass of wine, kick your feet up and pass the wine to your husband, because you remember, you’re still breastfeeding.

Give yourself a pat on the back: they are fed, clothed, safe, and still alive—panic and run upstairs to check they're still breathing.

Watch a movie, fall asleep halfway through. Wake up to an elbow in your side, because you are far too old to be carried off to bed.

Brush your teeth, look at your reflection in the mirror and wish you could be more like her—Actually. Stuff that! Own It! So, you’re a 'Hot Mess.' Who cares?

Be the best damn 'Hot Mess' there ever was.

Strut your stuff down the corridor in your finest stained apron and fluffiest slippers.

Dance to your favourite song, ignoring the strange looks your husband is giving you.

You're a mess of pure hotness, so burn, baby, burn.

How do I know when my Hot Mess is done?

1) Are you in sweatpants, wearing odd socks, mascara smudged, hair slung into a messy bun, with streaks stuck to your sweaty face?

2) Have you been holding your pee for hours?

3) Are you answering with one-word replies, yes, no, sure, ARGH?

Then you are well and truly a certified ‘Hot Mess.’

Secret Ingredients:

A big wagon-load of heart, soul, love, and—an understanding pinch of crazy.

Notes from the Chef:

Don’t be fooled; despite looking like a zombie, she would do it all again in a heartbeat.

She has the fight and tenacity of a lioness protecting her cubs.

She is eagle-eyed, spotting danger from miles away.

Her sarcasm? Sharper than T-Rex teeth.

She can run on zero sleep. Because who needs 8 hours of shut-eye?

She has the hearing of a bloodhound and knows which scream (among the five overlapping ones) means it's time to race to Emergency.

Recommendations from the Chef:

While she can breastfeed a baby, wipe a dirty face, and answer a phone call, all at the same time, a ‘Hot Mess’ still needs a break.

Every now and then, we recommend alternating between Grandma and Partner Editions.

Please do NOT confuse Mother’s Edition with Mother’s Day Edition—or you’ll end up with Hellfire Edition, and that is hot enough to reap your soul (side-eyes husband)

Also, you may find her crying in the pantry, stuffing her face with chocolate (because whoever said chocolate is medicine is definitely a licensed doctor), but she will always show up for her family.

Always.