Haven't blogged in awhile, not that I haven't wanted too. I have thought of it often when I got those rare moments where time and space align and getting to sit down and write, or do anything really makes me feel like those ladies on the yogurt commercials where they savor a bite of Danon like it's Ambrosia or their last meal or something.
So a brief rundown on the holidays to catch myself up. Thanksgiving this year was at our lovely midwife Marie's house, and not only did she prepare a scrumptious feast with all the fixins but served it on her mother's china, with candles in the real silver candlesticks freshly polished by my husband.
Piper was at the table and less impressed by the decorative elements than by what we were eating. She was not quite five and a half months old and Marie was asking me if she was showing any interest in food.I said she was and that she'd already had a few tastes of things (including but not limited to her first taste of any food besides plain yogurt, Guiness Beef stew, so shoot me! ). Marie then asked me if she was sitting up, which she wasn't yet, and telling me that meant her digestion probably wasn't ready when I absent mindedly took another bite of sweet potatoes near Pipers face and she grabbed the spoon and did the inevitable stuff in mouth trick that babies do with anything that comes near their face. So she tasted it, and it seemed some light went on in her little brain that said "hey...food is GOOD...I can totally eat this stuff!" and proceeded to launch herself towards the spoon with both hands and mouth open. So I guess she was indeed ready for solid food. Suddenly the highlight of thanksgiving was not the delicious turkey but watching Piper getting bright orange sweet potatoes all over herself, the table, and anyone sitting near her.
So the baby just woke up, I was actually nursing her when I started typing this on the I-pad, somehow during which she managed to drop off a full hour before she usually does. Not wanting to look the old gift horse in the mouth I scurried into the kitchen to eat another bowl of the green chili pinto beans we had for dinner. And I was just putting another glorious mouthful into my mouth, relishing the sound of my own self chewing and thinking "those yogurt commercials are no joke, all of those women getting gacked out over yogurt must be moms!" When the baby started crying and was soon brought by my husband into the kitchen.
I cannot say at that particular moment I was terribly happy to see them. I was also not happy when he sort of looked sheepishly offended when I asked if I could be alone for a few moments and he chose to go into the living room where I could still hear every cry and reassuring word, when all I wanted to do was listen to was the water heater and myself chewing for a few more minutes! Five minutes of relative silence! Is that to much to ask? These days, I realize it kinda is...but none the less he must have picked up my psychic cue (or maybe just looked at my face)because when she started crying again he took her to her room where I quickly heard the muffled sounds of baby Einstein...and she starts fussing a few minutes later and heeeerrrrre he is again....sigh. Deeeeepppp breathhhhsss....
Thankfully he did offer to change her diaper, which he does often...but I need to return to her care.My five minutes in Heaven is up. Till later, may all you moms out there enjoy your fermented milk products with reckless abandon.
