dinner time

I've been sporting a fabulous new accessory every day at about 5:30.  Its what all the stylish mom's are wearing this season. Because nothing says "I'd like to prepare dinner now" better than 16(ish, I haven't weighed him in a while) pounds of baby strapped to the front of you. Seriously, I don't know what it is about the last half-hour before a meal is ready (because I'm also wearing this look at 11:30 am) but clearly, its fussin' time. No toy is interesting anymore, no change of scenery, or bouncy seat or blanket on the floor it good enough once the clock has struck 5:30. And I'm not so opposed to a little fussing, but what really gets to me is the way that he physically harrasses himself when he's upset. It's like he's a little Jekyll/Hyde baby. Part of him is all innocent and harmless, just sitting there minding his own business. In the meantime, his evil little hands get up to no good, as he gives himself a serious facial mauling. He grabs his own ear and twists it, like he's trying to tune a radio. Then he hooks a finger in the bottom edge of his eye socket, and pulls down on it like a bedroom window shade. And if that's not enough, he rakes his sharp little baby nails over his forehead as though he's trying to dig furrows for spring planting. I can't stand it. And neither can he. After a few minutes of this abuse, he usually starts to protest, and I don't blame him. 

At which point I pick him up and pop him into the carrier. (In case you're wondering, its an Ergo Baby Carrier, and I totally recommend it. I've got three other slings/carriers, and this is the only one I use, because its the only one that doesn't hurt my back. Totally worth it) And then I continue going about my dinner prep, chopping and slicing etc. The only thing I won't do with him in it is drain pasta or cook bacon. Safety first, don't want to burn the baby. 

And oddly enough, even though its not my ideal working condition, it feels in a way like he's helping me. He silently watches every move I make, as though supporting my choice of vegetables (oooh, green onions, nice.) or admiring my chopping technique. And every now and again, I glance down at him and he's looking up at me, and he flashes me one of his big half-moon smiles and I just feel, I don't know... appreciated maybe? Is that weird? I'm probably just projecting, but I do feed that kid out of my own body, so the food that I make and eat is important to him too. I just somehow feel like he's thanking me for dinner. Or at the very least enjoying the comfort of my proximity. And I give him a big sunny smile in return and then we go back to our salad making, working together. Sort of. 

Comments

[Marcia Van Drunen]

lovely. and familiar.
hugs to all