Yesterday my mom took pity on my lackluster meal preparation of late (when I told her we’d be noshing on some vegetarian borscht and cold baked chicken – now there’s an interesting juxtaposition!) and whipped up a batch of gourmet mac n cheese to take home for dinner. She packed it up nicely, insulated with newspaper, so in theory it would still be hot when we sat down to eat. She even cut up some fresh green beans so I would only need to drop them in a pot of water. I had carrots too, could handle that on my own.
So, got the babies home, unpacked, figured we would be able to eat before their next feeding. Not so at all.
The boy started squeaking at 6:15, just as the veggies finished cooking. I made bottles and changed the diapers. Girl baby started crying uncontrollably, didn’t want food, didn’t want to sleep, nothing was working, and I was starving. I put her back in the crib and she settled down, even smiled. I left to go eat so I had the strength to continue the evening’s duties.
As I gobbled down the food, hubby said, “Maybe she’s over-hungry. We could try some oatmeal.” I scowled and said, “Noooooooo. She’s bawling. She won’t want that.” Also, I didn’t want her to choke on cereal while crying so hard.
After I inhaled my food, I was ready for another attempt to feed her. Just then, the dog wanted to go out. I opened the front door, and usually I grab Ashiko’s collar before putting her on her chain, but she bolted out the door in pursuit of one of the neighborhood cats (who happens to look just like Snoopy). I ran out after her, but stopped in the middle of the street and thought, “Great…this is hopeless…I might as well just go back inside…she’ll come home eventually.” But I walked around the circle towards the cat’s house, and the owner and her dog were returning from a walk. She said our dog was nearby, had been playing with her dog. I said, “Where is she now? She’s probably gone back home and is making me walk all the way around the circle.” Sure enough, when I got back, there she was in the front yard, waiting for me. Sigh.
So then…I scooped up whiny girl baby and she was crying again. Sat down with her at the dining table, and she still didn’t want any bottle. I said to the hubby, “Hmm…maybe she does want some oatmeal.” We got that ready, and after the first spoonful she cheered up and let out a lonnnnnnnnnnnggggg loud toot. Aha! So it was gas pain that was causing all the distress! She ate all the cereal, happily tooting during the meal, had a few sips from the bottle and fell fast asleep. She was worn out from the ordeal! I then had to apologize to the hubby and (cough, cough) tell him he was RIGHT for suggesting the cereal idea. Newman!
This morning, I yanked an old pair of shoes out of the closet that I haven’t worn in 10 years. I’ve had them since 1993. They were always comfy, a classic style, German-made, long-lasting, yada yada. When I stopped at my folks’ at lunchtime to deliver some pumpage, they said, “Where’d all that mud come from that was on your shoes? We’ve been cleaning up little piles of it here and there.” I said, “What mud?” and looked at the bottom of my shoes to find that the heels had dry-rotted and were crumbling all over kingdom come! Who knew shoes could get dry rot?
I returned to work and entertained the Chief of Fashion Police with my fashion faux pas. She said, “Only YOU would keep shoes for 15 years!” She actually admitted they were a cute style but gave me a demerit for my socks that didn’t bear any matching quality to the rest of my ensemble, which is always a sore spot with her. But hey, at least I don’t wear my purple Crocs every day anymore! Those were my preggo work shoes.