“Mommy! Marsha threw up on the couch, and then she ate it!”
I realized this morning that Poppy’s ballet shoes were in the center console of the car, right where she’s supposed to put them after class. But the car and its center console are at the body shop.
Pete vigorously, repeatedly and with much gusto encouraged me to “Stop It” when I told him it was time to leave the very busy bakery.
A large dog jumped into my car when we stopped to pick Poppy up from her piano lesson. I think it was a pit bull mix. It had very muddy paws and a collar with no tags.
This week is going to be roughly 87 percent busier than normal. The kids are starting swim lessons again, my car will be in the shop for a repair for a few days, our new-to-us dishwasher is going to be installed and Poppy has her first-ever standardized testing this week, among other things. Which is all to say that my menu plan will be employing the CrockPot several times.
This recipe, from Better Homes and Gardens, uses cream-of soups, rotisserie chicken and frozen veggies. I’m hoping it’s as tasty as it is easy to make!
Tuesday: Scattered family dinner
Pete’s basketball practice runs pretty late on Tuesdays, so he and Rockford will be having a Daddy-and-the-boy dinner outing. I’m not sure what Poppy and I will be doing just yet.
This one is a Martha Stewart recipe for the CrockPot. I often find her recipes a little less flavorful than I’d prefer, so I’ll probably use a curry paste with a good amount of kick to make this.
Thursday: Cheeseburgers
It’s Pete’s choice week, which obviously means we’re having cheeseburgers.
Friday: Pizza
Last Friday we tried a pizza from Target’s grocery section. It wasn’t a frozen one — I guess you’d call it a “take and bake” pizza — and it was really good. That might be our pizza pick this week, too.
Do you have any great, simple meals for crazy days?
“Pensieri, non sogni” by Flavio Ronco.I was trapped. My fingers slid uselessly across the face of my cell phone, and the incessant clanging followed me wherever I tried to run until I finally realized it was a dream, and then I was awake. It was 2 a.m.
I stared at the pale rectangle of light at the other end of the room for what felt like hours, trying to figure out what had precipitated the noise in my dream. I tried to think happy, non-anxious thoughts, but I knew something must’ve happened in the real world to cause that sound. It wasn’t the alarm clock; that was the usual offender, but Rockford was sound asleep. The smoke detector wasn’t going off, and no one was playing drums anywhere in the house. So that only left one possibility: Burglars.
So much for happy, non-anxious thoughts.
I listened with all my being for the intruders and tried to figure out what I’d do once I finally saw a silhouette in the doorway. I didn’t want to wake Rockford until I heard something else, something definitive. And then, at about 2:15, I heard it.
I coughed. Loudly, and a lot. An incessant clanging rising up straight from my larynx. I got up, too tired to feel foolish, and took some cough syrup. The coughing wouldn’t give up that easily, though, so I moved to the couch so Rockford, at least, could sleep in peace.
I wondered if the antibiotics I’ve been taking might have contributed to the vividness of my dream, but Googling “zithromax dreams” only led me to a message board full of people who believed it had made them lose their sense of smell or given them dissociative disorders or an uncanny streak of good luck. (I don’t know. Just reporting the facts, ma’am.)
I completed two levels of the dumb Facebook game I’ve been playing, and then Pete joined me on the couch.
“I can’t sleep, Mama.”
“Me either, buddy. Would you like some warm milk?”
He nodded, and we went to the kitchen. He clutched his blankie and quietly sipped a small glass of milk. I held his hand, and I tucked him back into his bed.
“Try to sleep now,” I said. I kissed his head. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mama.”
By 4:30 he was smashed against me on the couch, all long-limbed and stretched out and radiating little-kid heat. I held him close.
“Mama,” he said at 8 o’clock, “I would like to watch ‘Super Hero Squad.’ ”
“OK,” I said. And then I went back to bed and slept for one solid, blissful, uninterrupted hour.
