I have been caught up in a book I’m reading, The Light Between Oceans. When Everett goes down for a nap, I lay in bed and read. And it’s so glorious. Clifford sits at my feet and I get absorbed in the story, only to jump out of it when I hear the baby wake up. I know, I know–please don’t tell me to “enjoy the time now before a second baby comes along”–too many people say that to me already. Besides, I really am enjoying it.
And also, I wrote an essay for a mothering website. After being turned down a lot, I was thrilled that someone accepted my writing. It’s a letter written to you, kind of like these posts. I’ll be sure to share it with you once it is published. Ooooo–published! I like the sound of that.
Anyways. Our dinner yesterday was pretty funny.
Chris and I on Sunday night typically run through what we want for dinner for the upcoming week. I grocery shop on Monday, and unless I have my meals semi-planned and enter Trader Joe’s with a list, I spend WAY too much time and money.
A commercial came on with burgers, fat and juicy and grilled. I said, “Aww yea, let’s have hamburgers with some real good beef.” He obviously obliged. So I wrote on my list grass fed beef, which of course I have to make an extra trip for because only Whole Foods has it. And I know it sounds silly, but honestly, that beef tastes different and I was willing to go the extra mile (literally) for it.
After Trader Joe’s, I run into Whole Foods and see their sign outside, advertising that their “grass fed beef” is on sale and get the jitters, like woo, what a win! I buy my groceries, swallow my total and check my list twice. I forgot the beef.
So back I go to the meat counter to get it. And then off I go, home, after waiting in a grocery line for the third time that day.
Since Everett goes to bed at six, Chris and I have just been eating once he is asleep–our meals are peaceful and enjoyable. We can get up for seconds without worry.
But when I am washing dishes and packing left overs up at seven o’clock, something doesn’t feel right. I like my day to be “done” when Everett goes to bed. Call me crazy, but it’s nice to feel like the day is finished for a few hours before my own bedtime. That precious time is not for scrubbing pots.
So we decided to have these highly anticipated burgers with Everett. I chopped and cooked the fries while he was in his little baby backpack on me, and thought, This is working out great. And then all of a sudden I regretted that thought.
Chris opened the back door, ready to bring the burgers in, perfect with the timing of the done fries in the oven. But he looked at me and said, “Did you throw that piece of peanut butter on the porch?”
I said, “Yea. It was left over on my toast and I was giving it to the dog. I saw there were ants on it earlier and just didn’t pick it up, don’t let him eat it.”
“Well he ate it. Come look at him.” And there were ants crawling up Clifford’s hanging mouth fur, like they were heading north on individual highway lanes. Nasty. Even thinking about it is giving me the heebie jeebies. I laughed, but Chris went into a panic mode, yelling to grab a plate and take the meat off the grill, while he tried frantically to get the ants off. I got the burgers and pulled the fries out. I told Chris to wash the dog after dinner and to just leave him outside so we could enjoy our food.
But our dinner was so rushed. And the kitchen was hot from the oven. Everett was whining and whining in his high chair. He never whines. And he ate more food than I had thawed out, so I kept getting up and defrosting an ice cube size worth of sweet potato, peach and apple between my own bites. Because of the dog’s episode, our burgers were too well done, completely ruining that ohhh it’s grass fed taste. My husband sat across from me in almost near silence–I knew he was pissed at me for not picking up that hunk of peanut butter, but just thought, Well, that’s just too bad for him….let him be mad. I love that man, but he can act like a child when he’s upset, not telling me what is bothering him, even it’s something I did.
What I imagined would be a mouth watering dinner, turned out to be a ten minute scenario, played out in a rush with a bunch of anxiety, frustration and a touch of anger.
It probably doesn’t sound like a big deal, but from forgetting to buy the meat, to Clifford’s ants and Everett’s decision to eat beyond his “usual”, it was just not meant to be.
Mothering lesson of the day learned–dinner will be served AFTER the baby goes to bed. Chris can do the dishes.