News from the Home Front
Measuring Cups
by Jodie Barringer on December 24, 2011
The Cup Full
¼ cups. When I was a little girl, I used to come up to Nashville for weeks at a time to stay with my grandparents in Franklin. I knew that on the first day, there would always be two chess pies that I could eat all by myself. And, I knew that the next day, we would be able to go to town to the Ben Franklin where I got to buy a prize. I knew that each time I went to Ben Franklin the same dilemma would be there- the plastic high heel shoes that I so desperately wanted were always in size teeny, and the baby dolls were always the hard kind. Thus, I had to get things like wood burning kits, and papermaking kits, and painting with numbers kits. I needed the high heels, because when I dressed up in Momma’s old party dresses and old bride’s maids dresses, I needed heels, and my grandmother Dot had horrible no heeled shoes in horrendous colors like gold and brown…
So, making cupcakes and cakes, and pies, and lady pockets was what I learned to do when I wasn’t rescuing Union soldiers from those horrible Yankees coming over the hill (My Grandparents lived in the Harrison House in Franklin- part of the War-ah). Dot was the only person in the world whom I knew would let me eat all of the cake batter by quarter cup full, if I wanted, and I did. ¼ cup after ¼ cup full. I averaged about 7 baked cupcakes per cupcake making. Those ¼ cups were full of everything I knew to be solid in my life. I knew without a doubt that I was loved unconditionally by my parents and my grandparents and my brother. I had not concept of conditional love, and being able to eat all the cake batter I wanted was proof that even if I got sick, my grandmother would still let me do it again, because you can never have enough chocolate cake batter, and your grandmother will love you even when you get the batter all over your mother’s bride dress.
½ Cups.
Johnny and I would ride as much as we wanted. I loved Ole’ Pokey because I didn’t need to put a saddle on him, and he would let you stand up on his back. I played Rodeo Queen as Loretta Lynn and Dolly sang in the background over the AM radio in the tack room. It was when I saw an actual picture of Loretta and Dolly that I was forced to pick a favorite. I loved both of them, but Dolly was a little bit more fun to sing to, AND Dolly had long fingernails, big bosoms, and high heeled shoes, so, naturally, SHE was the one I wanted to be. Plus, she had all sorts of different hairstyles that I could never figure out how she could do, since one day it might be short and the next day it might be back long again.
On hot days, Johnny and I would play in the creeks and make forts, pick cherries, get in Dub’s garden, and go investigate the fire pit where one day we actually saw Lula wring a chicken by its neck. At the end of the day, Dot would put me and Johnny in the bath. One at a time in that freezing little bath with only a wall heater. It might not have been so cold, if Dot would have let us have water in the tub, but she was afraid we would drown, I guess. She gave us measuring cups to play with in the tub; the ½ cup would clank on the bottom on the bath tub as I tried to fill it up. The tub water was so low, that I couldn’t even dip the entire ½ cup under water, but I would get it as full as a half cup could get. And, I would try to make that game fun because I knew Dot was trying, but it was cold and not so much fun with no water. So, generally, my baths were very quick, and I stayed fairly dirty the weeks that I was in Franklin… A half cup as full as I could make it because love is unconditional. And sometimes you let things slide for love.
¾ cups
I takes ¾ cups of white sugar and ¾ cups of brown sugar to make Toll House Chocolate chip cookies. I put in a little more brown sugar and a little less flour so the cookies are kind of thin and gooey. Chocolate chip cookies are a staple of my life. Once I got over making my favorite babysitter’s Barabara’s Brownies in the third grade, I progressed to chocolate chip cookies which was a huge endeavor because I had to use measuring spoons and measuring cups. I didn’t really understand the concept of either for several more years to come. I just knew they were different sizes…and not to mix up the tbsp. for the tsp. In high school, Margaret Jones and I would make cookies every Thursday and discuss our love lives and plans of attack for that weekend. Margaret has been married to the same wonderful guy for fifteen years now… maybe I should have listened to her plans instead of focusing on eating the cookie dough!!!
Now, Libby, Leila, and I have chocolate chip cookie dough on hand all of the time. We make a batch every week, make two sheets of cookies and then freeze the rest of the batter for the rest of the week. Most of the time, we eat the frozen batter before it ever hits the oven. But, that is the way things are done around here. A constant in our lives is that we will always have chocolate chip cookies at our house- And ¾ cups means a little bit more than that.
A full cup.
Leila and I drink a cup of coffee together each morning. This tradition of sorts started about three years ago, when Leila had a sore throat and I was trying to coax her into going to school. Her coffee was mostly creamer and sugar, but she had a real coffee cup and my full attention. Not every day do we sit down together, but, every day, Leila knows that her coffee will be waiting for her. Ready to start off the day- and that I am there, too, if , she is in the mood to talk. It’s a known thing. Her coffee will be ready, and I will be there. She can talk or sit or ignore me, but I will be there.
As I go into the Thanksgiving week, and I drink my cup of coffee, I look across at the kitchen counter that has on it a plate of chocolate chip cookies. Libby got home from Ole Miss on Friday, and I have had both of my babies with me all weekend. Last night, we stood in the kitchen and talked about college life, Leila’s life, my life, as we made our week’s batch of chocolate chip cookies. We overfilled Dot’s bathtub battered measuring cups and underfilled the tsp. of salt.
My cup overfloweth.
As I type and sip my coffee, I look over at my precious Leila packing her bag for school. My Libby is upstairs making up for lost sleep at college. So much of life is ¼ cups, and ½ cups, and ¾ cups. Every measurement is full. Life is, itself, parts that make a whole- and it is by adding parts over time that life is made into the life we know as ours. It is an unconditional life that we make- everything matters, because we matter and those in our lives matter. And, our experiences- good and bad- make us. We fill our lives with people that make us richer for having known them. Some we get to choose. Others come into our lives like it or not. How can any part of our lives not count for something as it all adds up in this cup of life we call our own? THIS is the cup that we pour out to other people and continue to fill as new friends and experiences fill us up again. From Psalms 23. My cup runneth over.
I never got those teeny plastic high heeled shoes, but I got to eat all of the cake batter. I got to ride horses and not take real baths. I get to make chocolate chip cookies every single week, and I get to have coffee with my children. My cup runneth over with love that can not be measured and time that has no end. I can love beyond measurement of time because I have been loved that way myself. As you pour your cups this week, remember to kiss your babies, tell your parents you love them, and take a walk in the park. I hope that all of your cups runneth over knowing that you matter to someone and that you make this world better for having been here. We all make up the measuring cup of this world no matter how big or small we are. We matter. You matter. Fill’er up!
Love you, Jodie