Sometimes You Have to Stop And Smell the Oatmeal and Give A Cuddle.
Instead of running this morning, I got up, did a load of laundry, hung it on the line outside. Unloaded the dishwasher, loaded the dishwasher and washed all the wine glasses and pots. See mood stamp to left.
Gwyneth Paltrow is, according to the news, hiring a nanny to care for her 4 month old daughter because “I love her, but I’m no superhero!” Yeah, and I bet she doesn’t have to clean the house or cook or spend an hour trying to find a pair of nylons without runs whilst the oatmeally little urchin clings to her yelling “I JUST WANT TO CUDDLE!”
Sorry, did I say that out loud? Needless to say, I’m not wearing nylons this morning.
We Geniuses Are So Misunderstood
How was dinner, you may ask? Sigh. I cooked for three days. Everything was perfect. Perfect, I tell you. Everyone ate it. No particular raves. Sigh. My colcannon ROCKED! (that’s mashed potatoes, cabbage, bacon and butter) My curried pumpkin soup was ALMOST as good as Crabby’s – but it’s always better when someone else makes it.
This about sums up the evening:
Mother in law: What’s this black stuff?
Me: Portobello mushroom stuffing with walnuts and sage.
MIL: Oh. Okay. (eats it.)
Thank goodness my Aunt Susan was there to appreciate it.
My Son, Mr. Spock
As I mentioned, my cousin Kate got married over in Ireland. Aunt Susan, after dinner, went up to Ice Prince:
Aunt S: Do you want to go to Ireland with me?
Aunt S: Why not?
IP: It’s dark outside.
Aunt S: There are lots of nice animals like sheep and goats…
IP: But if we go now, we’d wake them up. They’re sleeping!
WWMCD? (What Would Mr. Crabby Do?)
Yesterday we took Ice Prince to a playground (The Beach for you Toronto people). It’s a HUGE fenced playground. HUGE, I tell you. Anyhow, one kid is sitting on a ride ‘em toy crying. For no particular reason. IP is standing there trying to figure out what the problem is and talking to him. (“Is he hurt, mommy? Are you hurt, little boy?) Finally, his mom (who is a cell phone) comes and gets him after about 5 minutes.
Half an hour later, I go for a coffee for Fresh and I and come back. Fresh says: “That kid there has no shoes, and doesn’t seem to have a parent watching.” I pointed out that his mom was the one on the cell phone. With the kid’s shoes at her feet. I got a look at her eyes, and she looked drugged out. Maybe she was phoning around for a fix. I kept half an eye on the kid and they eventually left. I still feel I should have done more – but what? Mr. Crabby would’ve given her what for.
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