Saturday, April 16, 2005

I'm hot. Chicks dig me. Posted by Hello

Everyone's got an opinion

You know, before I had a baby, I used to remember my sisters complaining about how strangers would stop them in the street or at the store to give them a word of mothering advice.

I had a bit of this myself when I was pregnant. When busted drinking a VERY SMALL glass of homebrew that Derek had carefully portioned out according to allowances by the New England Journal of Medicine's study on alcohol consumption during pregnancy, I had a friend ask if this was OK for the baby.

"I find a little bit of beer takes the edge off the cocaine."

Some people don't have a sense of humor....

But back to the story. I'm in Wegman's yesterday, buying haddick for the lastest cooking craze at Chez Tronquet--Fish and Chips. E was in his carrier with a blanket draped over him to keep out all the light and hopefully to keep him asleep for the duration of the shopping adventure. Out of the blue comes a blue hair with an opinion.

BH--Your baby's feet are sticking out.
KH--I know. Aren't they cute?
BH--He might get cold.
KH--Actually, he was cranky earlier because I dressed him for 40 degree weather instead of 65 degree weather. Do you want to see him? (with that I lifted the edge of the blanket)
KH--Isn't he cute?
BH--But his feet might get cold.
KH--(realizing that I might be stuck here in front of the shallots for a very long time...) Would YOU feel better if I covered his feet?
BH--(with a dramatic sigh) I WOULD.

With that I covered his feet. Sometimes life is too short to argue over cold feet in the produce section.

Friday, April 15, 2005

Who's my Boo Boo Kitty? Posted by Hello

the grilled cheese sandwich and the burning house

It started out innocent enough. We were all lying in bed, Ethan hooked up and Derek mesmerized by his latest beer-making book (something about radical brew-making). I was on the phone with B, discussing a whole lot of nothing. Suddenly I start to smell something burning. And unless Zinni had developed an opposing thumb and was whipping up a late night snack in the frying pan, something was REALLY not right.

I started to remark about it to B, hoping that Derek would take the hint. I guess I forgot the entire semester of blatant and shameless flirtation on my part that he never quite got. To be honest, if my skirts had gotten any shorter, you could have seen my belly ring. Anyway, I am going on and on and on about something that is now smelling like a grilled cheese sandwich. B and I spent 5 minutes discussing what it might be. Derek does not blink an eye.

"I guess I'll get off the phone and see what's burning, B." I gave my best and loudest sigh, but to no avail. As I hung up the phone, Ethan filled his pants. OK, now I'm stuck with two awful jobs. My mind was racing on ways to get Derek to do BOTH (realizing that there is no way in HELL will he fold).

"OK, you have a choice. You can either change the baby or find out why it smells like the house might burn down." At least I could get out of one.

He grabbed the baby and said, "I can't smell any GRILLED CHEESE SANDWICH so I guess you should figure this one out." Busted. He totally heard me.

As he walked to the door, he turned and said, "and you might want to start with your lamp."

There it was. A "previously utilized" nursing pad, smoking as it rested on the top of the lampshade. Smelling disturbingly like a grilled cheese sandwich...