4 kids in 3 years: reflections on motherhood, art and life.
If I wrote a food blog, it’d only have one page,
A single recipe that would take center stage.
Single moms would use it, grannies on the go,
nursing moms and professionals, running to and fro.
Even dads would love it, especially the man-clog kind.
It’d be pure genius, I can see it in my mind.
People would start pinning, and pining for the trick.
It’d be shared on Facebook so much it’d make you sick.
It’d be bigger than cute kittens or Blunt Cards for the masses,
Bigger than Charlie Bit Me and other Youtube disasters.
I’d get a bit embarrassed, as I humbly acknowledged,
It’s nothing that my mother taught me or I learned in college.
Or at least that’s what I’d say when Ellen had me on.
I’d dance across her stage to some pseudo-hip-hop song.
I’d show pictures of my family, I’d bring a little gift!
She’d say, “Portia loved the recipe, it gave us both a lift.”
I’d be like, “No! You are GREAT, cool and funny, too!
And now you model for moisturizer? I’m cool? Look at you!”
and she’d be like, “No look at YOU! You’re the BOMB!
And you’re so HOT, too! What a SUPER MOM!”
And I’d get a book deal off that one page that I posted.
I’d be so rich and famous, with Cristal I’d be getting toasted.
I’d be riding in limos, getting Botox in my face,
I’d be the guest on CNN shows, I’d take over that place.
I’d get my hair blown out, like all the ding-dang time,
Like the Housewives of New Jersey! Damn, that show would be all mine.
And I’d get black leather pants for when I walked on the stage.
I’d get a trainer, collagen lips, lipo hips. I’d cease to age!
And it goes like this, dear friend, you too can be a hotshot.
Chop up some raw chicken, and plop it in a crockpot
Boullion, carrots, celery, too,
you can call it chicken stew!
Got salsa and some chopped peppers? Enchilada fixings!
Barbecue sauce and some bulky rolls, voila, pulled chicken!
Veggies, chicken, boullion, Bisquik?
You’ve got chicken dumplings, thisquick!
Onion, garlic, beans, cilantro
And you’ve got white bean chicken chili pronto!
(Well not pronto, it’s in a crockpot, cooking all day
While you drive them, do laundry, change diapers, slave away.
Sure it stinks up the house, it’s not a plan for world peace.
But it beats hot dogs again, with a side of frozen peas.)
For all this I’d be world famous, I’d be the toast of every ball
people would rethink stay-at-home Moms. I’d have it ALL!
There’d be a movie made. Julia Roberts playing me with pride.
It’d be just like Pretty Woman, Eat, Pray, Love, Runaway Bride!
If I wrote a food blog, that’s how it would go.
Stick chicken in my crockpot, and then enjoy the show.
(A girl can dream…)