Baby Blase

Things were just not going my way last night. And I would spare the internet another rant about how waaa waaa bad my day was, except it was pretty incredibly bad in a I’m-feeling-really-sorry-for-myself kind of way and need to share it with the world.

Let me start by saying we had a fantastic weekend. We went out to dinner with Kourtney & Patrick (the other half of the nanny-share alliance) at Olivia and had a great meal with exceptional wine (I think we will call Patrick from now on to ask what we should drink with every meal) and wonderful conversation. Saturday we ventured out into the land of the hippies for Eeyore’s Birthday to see The Nesbitts and had a blast.

Although James was unsure of Harrison and appalled when H wanted to touch his sunglasses. Rightly so little man – stand your ground! That kid is trying to steal mine all the time!

We all crashed out for a two-hour nap when we got home. Then we met up with the Nesbitts again for Lucky J’s Chicken and Waffles. Their tagline is “Chicken for Strength. Waffles for Speed.” I have no idea what that means and can’t say that I feel stronger post-chicken and can attest to feeling the opposite of speedy, but, it was delicious nonetheless. Sunday morning we took a walk down to South Congress for lunch

and then hit up the park on our way home.

We all crashed out again then headed to Wholefoods to stock up on food for the week. Armed with a list of meals I wanted to prepare and a subsequent list of ingredients we piled food into the cart and then the car and almost completely avoided a baby-meltdown (he can now turn the upper half of his body 180 degrees and reach any items that are placed within a couple feet of him. He will attempt and more often than not succeed in picking up and gnawing on anything, including, but not limited to: a 5 pound bag of potatoes, a honeydew melon, lemons, fennel stems and leaves, loaves of bread, bottles of wine and when said items are taken away the kid is less than amused. So, we must now, shop armed with O’s… and lots of them.).

So, grocery shopping is getting a bit more difficult which may have gotten me flustered. But, from then on the night totally sucked.

While putting away the groceries I attempted to make macaroni and cheese. I failed. How on earth does a person screw up macaroni & cheese!? The failure to produce a meal that is so simple most five year olds can accomplish it was compounded by the fact that I had also added zucchini and squash and spinach. All of the time it took to chop all of that extra stuff meant that not only was it 7pm and the kid was WAAAAAAAAHUNGRYWAAAAAAAA and he had no dinner, but, it also meant that I had wasted all of that food. I had no choice but, to feed the kid two of the last few packets of baby food we have and some honeydew which Marc helped chop up. The macaroni and cheese debacle had infected my mood so I yelled – yes yelled – at Marc for chopping the honeydew too big. Because that’s an issue that really needs a fight. uh huh. You may start to see where this is going.

I also had grand delusions of making Marc and I a lovely meal of fennel risotto and scallops – you know – while I put away the groceries, make the kid dinner and cleaned up the kitchen. I must have still been high from second-hand-whatever from Eeyore’s Birthday.

It wasn’t until Marc told me to grab a glass of wine and sit down with him and the kid and demanded that I NOT make dinner for us that I was able to relax a bit. But, stopping to look around at the disastrous kitchen and dining room that we were unable to pickup because of our fun-packed weekend – I started to feel ill and got up to clean, grabbing a few pieces of melon from the floor, throwing them into the sink and mumbling with force “why am I the only one picking up the crap off the floor!?”. Yet again an attempt to pick a fight with my ever-loving husband. Luckily he is smarter than I and didn’t fall for it.

While doing the dishes from the failed macaroni I jammed my middle finger into the dishwasher. The shard of metal masquerading as a dishwasher-door-lock stabbed me under the fingernail. I jumped around and started a four-letter-exclamation but, stopped myself; looked at H; smiled and said “It’s okaaaaaaaay!” in a syrupy, sweet high-pitched voice to try spare him my agony and keep him from breaking down which he does at the mere spark of sadness or fear from me.

While Marc bathed the kid I made a left-over pork plus veg dinner for us and after the kid was asleep we sat down to try to enjoy a minute alone to try to calm down. I took a sip of wine and felt a flutter on my lips – there was a FLY in my wine! I spat out what was in my mouth and thankfully, rightly new that the evening could not get any worse. Marc quickly took the offending glass away, poured the interloper down the drain and ran the disposal – to ensure a most-painful death then poured me another and then another.

The kid slept through the night until 7am, making for a spectacular morning. So, all is now well.

Listening: The Horrors (fitting band name)