My mom, Saint Nana, comes over to the house a few times a week to prevent a complete structural breakdown. She provides moral support, laundry support, and gives me the chance to get some errands done. This system has worked flawlessly for months, both when I was working outside the home and now that I'm shackled inside it.
Until now. Saint Nana decided (without checking with me, I might add) to go visit my sister in Mississippi. Dedicated readers will remember that my sister is a great cook and that her phone number is 5. What you might not know is that my sister has two boys that are 18 months apart. She managed to wrangle these boys without the benefit of a Nana in close proximity, which is a cross I am delighted not to bear.
For 6 full days, I ran this house with no help from St. Nana. We joked that we would be waiting on the driveway, dirty and hungry, for her to come back and help us. My sister could be heard in the background during these conversations, expressing derisively that she somehow managed to keep her children alive without this help; but as a skinny person, she has no credibility with me.
Today, St. Nana returned to us. Praise be! Now, despite our joking around, I have done quite well in her absence. Everyone has been fed, watered and bathed frequently. The laundry is done for the most part, and I have even managed to learn a new recipe. I was quite looking forward to showing off my abilities as a domestic diva...
Fate intervened. Darling daughter had been entertaining herself by building a castle out of baby bottles and some half full glasses of water. When the castle inevitably met it's watery end, she raced into the room where I was feeding the baby and announced "Mom, I'm all wet!" I helped her peel off her soaked shirt, and she declared that her pants were also too wet to wear. I told her to go pick out a new outfit, but she decided that being naked was much more fun.
Moments later, Nana pulled into the driveway. She was greeted at the door by a naked three year old, a howling dog, a crying baby and a sheepish me. The naked three year old expressed her delight at seeing Nana again by showing off her "sweet moves" and "shaking her booty". So much for my domestic agenda...
An hour or so later, Nana found the broom and was sweeping the remains of last night's project (graham crackers with icing and sprinkles) off the kitchen floor. She explained that the sprinkles were sticking to her feet. I'm still surprised that the sprinkles would bother her when she was covered in dog fur...but I'm grateful, as always, for any help I can get.
We're glad you're back, Nana!
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
Phone Numbers
Husby came bounding in from work this evening, to find me turning the meatballs over in the pan with one hand, holding our six week old daughter with the other, and feeding her with a bottle propped up against my chin. Our oldest daughter was standing on her step stool in front of the microwave, cheerfully pouring water from one bottle to another with marginal success. (She was "helpering".)
As is his custom, bouncy Husby adds to the cacophony with stories about the latest adventures in corporate finance. He interrupted himself and asked me if I'd heard from my Dad.
"Huh?" I tried to infuse my question with as much distracted irritation as I could to remind him that I was truly doing at least four things at once.
"I sent your Dad a text message and I haven't heard back from him yet. And hey, how do you do all that stuff at once? I can feed the baby and do something else at the same time too, as long as the other thing that I'm doing is watching tv." Hilarious.
It's magic, pal. That's how I do it. Tons of fairy dust and duct tape, Coors Light and moxie, that's what is holding this whole thing together. Instead of sharing this thought, I smiled beatifically and raised my eyebrows at him to indicate that he should continue with his bewildering line of questioning.
"Did you watch the news today?"
I had, but not since the morning.
"Well, Slumdog Millionaire took home a ton of Oscars. And something tremendous happened in the financial market that I wonder if your Dad knows about."
I knew about the Oscars, hadn't I been watching all day to see the "hits and misses" of Oscar fashion? I had no idea what tremendous thing happened in the business world, so I waited for him to tell me with a sense of trepidation. No gnus is good gnus in the market these days...
"So and so bought Such and Such, isn't that amazing?" He now had his phone out, to check if Dad had answered his text. I reminded him that Dad was visiting my sister, who lives in Mississippi. Cell phone reception is spotty in her neck of the woods. He could call my sister and reach them that way.
"What's your sister's phone number?"
"Seriously, I have no idea. Go get my phone. She's speed dial #5."
He was still flipping through his contact list. "Is her area code 614?"
"I have no idea. She's speed dial #5."
"Uhm...is her area code 312?"
"Honey. Listen. I have absolutely no idea what her phone number is. She is speed dial #5. As far as I'm concerned, her phone number is 5. I push the number 5, and she answers. Her phone number is 5."
Sheesh. He finally found my phone, pushed the number 5, and got a hold of the gang in Mississpi. Eureka.
(for the record, Dad did know about the market thing, and the meatballs I made for dinner turned out quite well. Those details don't really impact my story, I'm really just bragging about cooking a dinner that didn't turn out like the bottom of my shoe.)
As is his custom, bouncy Husby adds to the cacophony with stories about the latest adventures in corporate finance. He interrupted himself and asked me if I'd heard from my Dad.
"Huh?" I tried to infuse my question with as much distracted irritation as I could to remind him that I was truly doing at least four things at once.
"I sent your Dad a text message and I haven't heard back from him yet. And hey, how do you do all that stuff at once? I can feed the baby and do something else at the same time too, as long as the other thing that I'm doing is watching tv." Hilarious.
It's magic, pal. That's how I do it. Tons of fairy dust and duct tape, Coors Light and moxie, that's what is holding this whole thing together. Instead of sharing this thought, I smiled beatifically and raised my eyebrows at him to indicate that he should continue with his bewildering line of questioning.
"Did you watch the news today?"
I had, but not since the morning.
"Well, Slumdog Millionaire took home a ton of Oscars. And something tremendous happened in the financial market that I wonder if your Dad knows about."
I knew about the Oscars, hadn't I been watching all day to see the "hits and misses" of Oscar fashion? I had no idea what tremendous thing happened in the business world, so I waited for him to tell me with a sense of trepidation. No gnus is good gnus in the market these days...
"So and so bought Such and Such, isn't that amazing?" He now had his phone out, to check if Dad had answered his text. I reminded him that Dad was visiting my sister, who lives in Mississippi. Cell phone reception is spotty in her neck of the woods. He could call my sister and reach them that way.
"What's your sister's phone number?"
"Seriously, I have no idea. Go get my phone. She's speed dial #5."
He was still flipping through his contact list. "Is her area code 614?"
"I have no idea. She's speed dial #5."
"Uhm...is her area code 312?"
"Honey. Listen. I have absolutely no idea what her phone number is. She is speed dial #5. As far as I'm concerned, her phone number is 5. I push the number 5, and she answers. Her phone number is 5."
Sheesh. He finally found my phone, pushed the number 5, and got a hold of the gang in Mississpi. Eureka.
(for the record, Dad did know about the market thing, and the meatballs I made for dinner turned out quite well. Those details don't really impact my story, I'm really just bragging about cooking a dinner that didn't turn out like the bottom of my shoe.)
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