Do y'all know where I am right now? I'm hiding in my bathroom, sitting on the toilet, typing. This is getting old. A beloved sitter just arrived, but tired Jack and just-awake Oliver are scrapping downstairs, and taking turns saying they need me. Am I really so magnetic and alluring? How is a Mommy who went completely ape-shit after 2+ hours of not-s0-fun outings this morning still THE.MUST-HAVE.BEING. onto which the children must glom? Why is there never any reprieve from this "vaunted" status?
Tom forgot to put a diaper on O before his nap, so he awoke in a sea of pee which naturally I had to clean up since T left for Home Depot on some man mission. Speaking of this man mission, it has, thus far, involved drilling into the wall and ceiling just above my side of the bed. Did T cover the bed or my night-table? He did not. It doesn't take much in the way of imagination to think about how said side of bed and table look now: not clean. The Grand Relocator, as I call T, also happens to have a penchant for leaving a project after 75%; often the project is completed but the clean-up is seriously lacking, and nothing is put away (hence nickname). I patently refuse to clean any of this up.
I am snark-tastic right now and really not in a good way. You know what makes me crazier than peeling garlic (seriously, why the eff do those papery peelings insist on sticking to the garlic or to you? It drives me to the brink)? Never knowing what the next day of motherhood will bring. It would be so nice to imagine that Tuesday will be just like "_____." But it never is. The variables that might or will change seem infinite, the newly mutated variations of them sometimes wonderful, sometimes the complete antithesis of that. I swear to you some mother invented wine, not some man, as the story surely goes. It was definitely some ancient cave-woman who one day just broke down and out of desperation drank something that she forgot to put away last week because amid the mayhem of child-rearing, gathering food, doing some primordial laundry and so forth, it just slipped her damn mind to seal up the grapes. Well, hats off, Lady Cave. I bet you were thrilled and so the eff am I.
I really need to get to the gym, and that is where I'm headed, but first I will tell you about my food plans for the day, those that have been accomplished and those to come.
In my garden and at the farmers market this morning, the herbs were bounteous. The idea of a store of fresh pesto led me to buy several bunches of basil and sage, and so now in my freezer are decent-sized vats of basil pesto and sage pesto. Gorgeous! Fab! Yum! I grilled some Chinese 5-spice seasoned radicchio for lunch and enjoyed that with some goat cheese, Sungolds from my garden and some super-duper aged balsamic syrup. Delicious. Then I made the mojo sauce in which I'll marinate steaks later for the carne tacos we're having as part of dinner. I'm also going to make an avocado salad with crab and/or lobster dressed with a grapefruit sabayon, and for dessert we're going to indulge in a gorgeous pluot tart topped with dollops of mascarpone-whipped cream. Beyond amazing, yes?
To the treadmill I go.
