I thought I was the master of my house…until I had to do my husband’s job today. Today is Father’s Day. And I wanted my husband to experience what he gave me on Mother’s Day, which was absolute perfection. Every morning, he usually gets up with our son while I’m feeding the baby, and feeds him, then feeds the animals. So I got up early this morning with the baby (who has a horrible cold) and brought her into our bed to catch just a few more Z’s, waiting for our three year old son to wake up and the morning dance to begin. I rolled over at some point, after finally dozing off again, to find him staring at me…which was incredibly creepy.
Even though I knew it was my child, something about opening your eyes to find someone looking at you just doesn’t sit well first thing in the morning. (How long had he been there?!) I carefully got out of bed, (the baby was still asleep on my pillow, as was my husband) and took my son out of the room because he doesn’t know how to whisper. I went downstairs to get the Father’s Day presents to put by the bedside and told our son to stay put. (I’m quietly rushing now because once the baby wakes up, no matter whose job I’m currently doing, she will demand that I begin mine very quickly.) I get the presents on the bedside, take a moment to witness the sweet thing that is happening in our bed at the moment…
…and get dressed. Now our son is back in the room and starts to tell me what he wants for breakfast. Loudly. He wakes up the baby and the daddy. So I grab her and lead him out of the room, only halfway dressed. I begin to nurse her, then remember another present I forgot to put by the bed. So I leave our son downstairs, place the present on the table, then accidentally wake daddy up again. I mentioned I was nursing our daughter. What I didn’t mention was that when she nurses, she sounds like Maggie Simpson. It’s so incredibly loud. I can’t talk on the phone to strangers while I’m feeding her because they become suspicious of what I’m doing. I leave the room and walk back downstairs, give our son his milk, and begin to make the Father’s Day pancakes. With one hand. Doing things with one hand used to be a lot easier when my daughter was three weeks old…now she’s three months old and has gotten a lot longer, and squirmier. As the first pancake touches the hot griddle, I hear our cat meow. Damn, I forgot about the cat. I grab the cat food and head outside to feed her. (Still nursing the baby…) I go to pour the food in her bowl, when I trip on our doormat and the bag of food spills all over the porch. I decide in that moment that our cat should be smart enough to find the food on the floor and eat it, so I leave it there. I walk back inside to the smell of burning batter. Damn, I forgot about the pancakes. I flip the black mess right into the trashcan and start again, remembering that Bobby Flay always says the first pancake is never good anyway. As I wait for the tiny bubbles to pop on the surface, I hear the dog rattling around in her crate upstairs. Damn, I forgot about the dog. I head upstairs to get her (still nursing the baby…) and take her outside. I open the door to let her out and she takes a sharp detour to start eating the cat food that is now spread across our entire yard. I’m trying to get her to go do her business, but she’s not listening. She never listens to me. She is getting old and beginning to lose her hearing, but that’s only half of the problem. She will only respond to the voice of my husband and my father, (Happy Father’s Day to me…). So I’m standing there, in a sea of cat food, only partially dressed, nursing a baby, yelling at a half-deaf cock-a-poo to please, for the love of God, POO-POO and PEE-PEE!!! She does, then I try to get her to come back inside. I’m yelling, ‘Come here! Come here!‘ over and over again to no avail, then my three year old hears what’s going on and he comes outside in just a t-shirt and underwear and tries to help. He starts yelling ‘Come There! Come There!‘ after every time I yell ‘Come Here! Come Here!‘. The dog finally decides she’s done with the outside, and I wrangle her back in the door, past the dirty floor cat food to the smell of burning batter. Damn, I forgot about the pancakes. Again. I flip yet another black mess into the trashcan and start again, thinking maybe that Bobby Flay said the first two pancakes are never good…? I pour myself a cup of coffee and vow to now stand by the griddle until all the cakes are completed. I look down to see the dog staring at me. What? You just went out! Damn, I forgot to feed the dog. I just brush her off because I figure she’s already eaten cat food this morning and focus back on the pancakes. I finish them, feed my son, drink my coffee, continue to feed the baby and wait for the man of the hour to wake up and his day to begin. When he did, we all showered him with hugs and kisses, thanked him for being a wonderful daddy, and I secretly wished it was Mother’s Day.
(I created this recipe for my father who loves both Oreos and Cheesecake. I thought I was being incredibly creative until my husband told me it was already a thing. Oh well. It was delicious.)
*Father’s Day Oreo Cheesecake
-16 Oreo cookies
-1/2 cup pretzels
-5 TB unsalted butter, melted
-pinch of kosher salt
–In a food processor, completely crush your cookies and pretzels to the consistency of sand.
–Add your salt and your melted butter and pulse until the butter has moistened everything.
–Press this into a greased 10 inch springform pan, wrapped well in tinfoil, and place in the freezer while you make your filling.
-4 bricks (2 lbs) of low fat neufchatel cream cheese, softened.
-1 cup of low fat ricotta cheese
-1 3/4 cup sugar
-3 TB flour
-splash of vanilla extract
-1/4 cup of milk
-20 Oreo cookies, crushed, but not pulverized
–In the bowl of your standing mixer, beat the cream cheese and ricotta until creamy.
–Add in your sugar and the flour, and continue to beat on medium speed for 2 minutes.
–Add your vanilla, your milk and your eggs, one at a time, and continue to beat until everything is incorporated well and completely smooth.
–Stir in your crushed oreos by hand and pour the filling into your prepared crust.
–Bake at 500 for 15 minutes and then reduce the heat to 225 and continue to bake for an hour. After an hour, turn off the oven and crack the door with a wooden spoon. Allow the cake to sit in the warm oven for 30 minutes. (note-It will still have some jiggle in the center, but it will set as it cools. It will be a slight golden brown on the top and will have come away from the edges of the pan.)
–Remove the cheesecake and let it sit at room temperature to cool completely.
–Unmold the pan and place in the refrigerator for at least 6 hours, but preferably overnight.