Sunday, August 9, 2009

It Was A "I Can't Think About Food" Day

Claire would have been going home today, but her visit was postponed a day, so she’ll go home tomorrow. The original plan was for her to come to Podunkville Friday and stay until today. But she didn’t arrive until yesterday because her mother licked the brownie batter bowl Thursday.

Yup. Cassie prayed all night Thursday for the porcelain god to deliver her from Salmonella.

According to http://www.eggsafety.org/, “Salmonella may be found on the outside of the egg shell before the egg is washed or it may be found inside the egg if the hen was infected. It is estimated that one egg in 20,000 eggs may contain Salmonella which is a 0.005% contamination rate.”

Considering in her life Cassie’s probably licked the bowls of darn near a thousand brownie and cake mixes, the odds were getting less and less in her favor.

Poor baby. She was one sick little mother for a day.

But Cass was back enough to her old self yesterday to bring the kids to Mawmeee (or Meemaw, depending on how you hear it) and Pop Pop’s (Claire’s names for us right now. She’ll have others, but for now I can live with Meemaw). She, Luca and Claire stayed last night, but she left Claire here for her second solo overnight, and it’s been a chaotic fun fest.

I have a new respect for my daughter (and all moms of young ones, especially those who work, and blog. How do you do it??). Being the mother of a 22-month-old and 2-month-old…I’ve been there, raised that, but that was a LONGass time ago. Cassie and her sister are 24 and 26 now, and time has faded my memory of the days of raising two children in diapers. Granted I was 21 at the time, but there’s no way I would do it full-time again. No. Way.

However, a weekend with one certain Claire? Bring it on.

Before Cassie left, Claire and I went for an early morning walk. She insisted on bringing her Little Mermaid umbrella because she saw clouds. She pointed to the sky and said, “Oh no! Reeeeen!” (Interpreted: Holy crap it’s gonna rain, Grammy. Open my umbrella!). Along the way, we picked a flower, which she twirled and sang to or about…it’s hard to know.

I thought we’d go out for 10 minutes and then head home, but right around minute 10, I heard someone yell, “Lyyyyynnnn!!!” Claire and I had passed no cars, the streets were empty, yet there, halfway through my walk, was BFF Shari who – get this – doesn’t even LIVE in Podunkville anymore! She was visiting her in-laws and was on her way to breakfast with her family. She jumped out of the car and told her husband she’d walk the rest of the way. We had a condensed talk of how life is right now and said good bye on the corner of 6th and Main. Walking home, I told Claire all about Shari, as she twirled her flower and sang, “Ee-I-ee-I-Eeeeee” (her version of Old McDonald).

I was a little concerned that Claire would (as Cassie calls it) “shemp out” when her mom and Luca drove away after saying our goodbyes, but I was so happy when Claire simply waved and said, “Bye-bye, Mommy” and headed for my Jeep. She remembered we were going to the grocery store.

I don’t give 22-month-olds enough credit for what they are capable of understanding. Obviously another thing time took away. Cassie had explained to Claire that Mommy was going home but that Claire was staying at Grammy’s. Claire apparently didn’t have a problem with that, so I’d worried for nothing. We went to WalMart, bought toilet paper and a Thomas the Tank Engine DVD (she loves “choo-choos”), came home and ate lunch (she loves Lentil Spaghetti, too!), then we went to the playground.

We had the place to ourselves. We slid down the slides together and Claire played on the monkey bars. She wanted to swing and so I secured her in the “baby” seat. She fussed and fussed, saying “No, no…” I thought she’d changed her mind and didn’t want to swing, but when I unlatched her safety latch, she fussed even more. She grabbed my hand and thrust it toward the swing next to hers – a “big kid” swing. Claire wanted me to swing alongside her! Yay! I understood! So I gave her a push, sat in the big kid swing and we “Weeee!!!”’d for the next 10 minutes.

I bribed her with water to get her off the playground and into the car. Not drinking water, but the sprinkler ball. It’s finally summer here in western PA and Claire was all about getting in her bathing suit and getting wet.

As we were driving home from the playground, I realized I was hungry. I was so busy watching Claire I’d forgotten to eat. When we got home, I heated up some leftovers and ate so quickly I didn’t taste a thing – so unlike my usual days. Eating today was a necessity, not the mindful thing it usually is. It was almost (dare I say) a pain in the butt to think about. I was busy with othe things, too busy to care what or even if I ate. By the time I stared in the cupboards looking for an afternoon snack (I was hungry again) after Claire went down for a nap, nothing looked appealing. So I grabbed a few melbas and some hummus and called it an afternoon.

I didn’t work out today – it was my official day off – but I feel like I’ve run a half-marathon. I’d say a “full” marathon, but I only watched one of the two g-babies. After pushing a stroller for 40 minutes at a brisk pace, then again this evening as my husband walked the dogs, then playing in the playground and chasing after and changing Claire several times, I’m tired. Maybe not half-marathon tired, but it’s still a legitimate “Wow this has been a long time” kind of tired.

Claire’s sleeping and I need a shower. We’ll take another walk tomorrow and then she’ll help me with my strength training routine before we head down toward da’burgh. Food today was secondary. Tricary, actually. Entertaining Claire and keeping her fed and hydrated were my main foci today. This rarely happens. The forgetting to eat, that is. Food is central to my life. I plan it every single morning, everything that will go in my mouth that day. Today and most likely tomorrow…I don’t care. I’ve got veggies and yogurt and eggs in the fridge. I’ll survive. That is as long as I cook the eggs first and don’t dive head first into a batter of brownies.
A random photo of baby Luca who yesterday found himself sitting next to the coffee maker and amongst the dirty dishes as I cooked dinner.