Dinner revisited

24 04 2008

Just for kicks, I thought I would compare the experience of making dinner sans baby versus making dinner with my darling 8 month old…

The Pre-Baby Dinner Experience

1.  Cook a lovely, tasty meal for two

2.  Sit down to a quiet dinner with my husband, enjoying his conversation and lavished compliments regarding the meal

3. Enjoy a tasty dessert

The Post-Baby Dinner Experience

1.  Retrieve screaming child from living room and deposit him in walker in the kitchen.

2.  Practice acrobatics while gathering ingredients for dinner and dodging child-in-walker chasing rolling desk chair around kitchen.

3.  Chop zucchini while screaming child-in-walker rams into ankles.

4.  Shove raw zucchini into baby feeder and hand to screaming child.

5.  Scramble to get vegetables prepared while baby sucks the life out of raw zucchini.

6.  Begin preparing chicken while baby beats stainless steal dishwasher with baby feeder oozing raw  mutilated zucchini pulp.

7.  Ponder how long it will be before zucchini streaks are cleaned from stainless steal dishwasher.

8.  Abruptly end pondering to launch emergency rescue mission to save vertical blinds from child-in-walker.

9.  Pause dinner prep to clean raw chicken slime deposited on vertical blinds during emergency rescue mission.

10.  Return to stove to rescue burning vegetables.

11.  Mental alert triggered by prolonged silence.

12.  Discover baby-in-walker exploring toilet in downstairs bathroom.

13.  Disinfect baby.

14.  Disinfect self.

15.  Pull overdone chicken from oven.

16.  Hand baby over to Daddy stepping in the door from work.

17.  Scowl at Daddy as he says, “Oh, what a cute little boy!”

18.  Put dinner on table.

19.  Wrestle octopus-baby into high chair.

20.  Shrug shoulders and grunt in response to Daddy’s question of ‘what’s for dinner?’.

21.  Sit down to dinner.

22.  Get up to retrieve forgotten bib.  Sit down to dinner.  Get up to retrieve forgotten silverware.  Sit down to dinner.  Get up to retrieve forgotten…etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc…

23.  Feed baby dinner.

24.  Apologize to husband for dinner.

25.  Forget to eat my own dinner.

26.  Whisk baby off to bed.

27.  Return to kitchen to tackle burned chicken pan.

28.  Decide best strategy is to soak burned chicken pan till morning.

29.  Ponder if burned chicken pan will sit as long as zucchini streaked dishwasher.

30.  Try not to look guilty when husband asks if there is dessert.

31.  Confess to having eaten the last of the M&M’s during dinner making escapade.

32.  Lay on couch and mentally change dinner menu for the entire week to frozen pizza.





Burnt Carrots

23 04 2008

After living with Drew and sleep deprivation for 9 months in utero and 8 months post, I have discovered that my mental capacity has greatly diminished while my capacity for ridiculous mistakes seems to have greatly increased. I like to think that this new found talent will soon disappear, but it seems that the more I ‘use it’ the less likely I am to ‘lose it’ as the reverse of the common expression would suggest. And, unfortunately, I seem to be using it quite often…To illustrate, here are a few examples of my new found stupidity…

Today, I burned carrots. Actually, let me be more specific – Today, I incinerated carrots, while also filling my entire house with the lovely, putrid smell of charred vegetable. My decision to steam some for Drew as a new finger food was immediately followed by my decision mistake of placing the carrots in a steamer pot minus water. Since water is an essential element in the steaming process…well, you can just imagine how that whole thing turned out. I am currently seeking a way to eliminate the odor before my husband comes home and I have to explain my error while he holds his nose…

A few weeks ago, I had a run in with a bottle of soy sauce. As I was hurriedly reaching into the pantry for a new ketchup bottle, I mistakenly knocked over an entire bottle of magic soy sauce. I say ‘magic’ simply because it was clearly not there when I reached for the ketchup, but magically appeared as I pulled my hand from the pantry, smashing the bottle to the floor and bathing my tile in Asian flavor. Unfortunately, my husband was home to witness that special moment. He helped out by dropping a few squares of paper towel into the lake of soy sauce before pacing back and forth worrying over the grout being permanently stained. He’s handy in messy emergencies like that – I mopped up the situation and rescued the grout, but sadly, the offending condiment has now been banned from our house…

I’ve also stepped into the shower fully clothed, walked into rooms and forgotten why, phoned my husband when I meant to call my mother-in-law, forgotten to turn off the kitchen faucet, left the freezer door wide open, dis-remembered my own address and phone number, and regularly mixed up words. I believed my right mind would return once Drew and I started sleeping through the night, but sadly I was mistaken. I succumbed to the awful truth a few days ago – right after I proudly declared to my husband that I had finally made the time to vacuum my legs twice that week. 😕

*Before putting Drew to bed tonight, I read him his animal book.  I found myself pointing to a dog and saying, “Look Drew, the sheep says ‘baaa'”.  I hope to straighten him out before he reaches kindergarten…





Switched at birth??

10 04 2008

I decided this morning that I must have brought the wrong child home from the hospital.  Everyone says he looks like me, his ears are exact miniatures of Tim’s, and Tim insists he has my laugh.  But this morning, I discovered an inexplicable trait that, although I envy, I definitely do not possess.  As Drew gets older, his waist is actually shrinking!  😯 I am not kidding – shrinking, I said.  For months now, he has been busting through clothes and new diaper sizes in rapid succession.  Tim would regularly refer to him as ‘Fat Baby’.  He was growing long and wide.  He was a six month old child wearing year old clothing or larger.  I had to buy him size 5 diapers to fit around his waist (and also to deal with his explosive bathroom habits, but I’ll spare you those details…) 😕

Well, last week Tim came home from work, and asked why I was dressing Drew like a gangster.  I hadn’t done so intentionally, but the shorts that used to fit him were sagging down below his little behind.  When I bought diapers last week, I actually went down a size and bought 4’s instead of 5’s because the 5’s were getting too big.  What kind of a mutant child is this?!?  My waist is NOT genetically disposed to shrink as I get older (and Tim’s is not either, but don’t tell him I said that 😉 ).  In fact, my waist seems decidedly to be heading in the other direction (no thanks to Drew, of course)  And now he has the nerve to start shrinking – this cannot be my child.  Long and skinny – he had to be switched at birth.





Another One Bites the Dust…

10 04 2008

Our guest bedroom is quickly becoming a baby gear junkyard for all the items Drew has out grown.  I just added a new, and now useless, item last night to the growing heap.  Houses in South Florida don’t have basements or attics, so our only storage options are the garage, where things need to be able to endure the humid, flaming 100+ temps, or our guest bedroom/baby gear junkyard.  I know I shouldn’t use the term ‘junkyard’- Lord willing, the items will become ‘new’ and exciting again for Baby #2 some day.  But last night while looking for a corner where I could stash the baby bathtub that will no longer hold my baby, I got a little sad..and a bit incredulous.

How is it possible that just 7 short months ago, Drew seemed to shrink in the surroundings of the bathtub or the swing or the bassinet part of the pack-n-play?  The bassinet bit the dust first when Drew began rolling and threatened to ‘dismount’ as Tim calls it from the pack-n-play to the floor.  Although I’m sure his form would have been graceful, I’m also sure he would not have been able to stick the landing, so the bassinet had to go.  The next item was the treasured swing.  I think I actually shed tears the day I had to pack that one up.  It was worth every penny spent on the endless D batteries the thing required.  It provided hours of peace and bliss from Drew’s fussy periods.  Not that I left him in there for extended periods of time…honest… 😉

Anyway, one tragic evening, I looked over to see Drew sitting up in the swing and leaning over the edge to retrieve a toy off the floor.  My screeching mad dash across the room to catch him was the sad end to that activity.  I went through several days of denial where I would look longingly in its direction when Drew reached his evening fussy time, but the fear of having to take Drew to the emergency room with his first concussion finally won out, and the swing went the way of the bassinet.  And last night, as I said, I carted the infant tub to the ‘junkyard’ as well.  I realized it was time to put that item away when I went to lift Drew out of the bath and the tub, wedged to his thighs, came with him.  Bye, bye blue bathtub – you saved me from the backaches of bending over the big tub, not to mention the joys of not having to clean the whole big thing…I will miss you.

So, tonight I sit looking around the living room wondering what baby item I will eulogizing next – will it be the jumper or exersaucer or the walker?  I cringe at the thought of each item ‘biting the dust’, and even moreso at the proof it provides that my little man is growing up.