Tuesday, January 29, 2008

i have to write this down before the stars lose their perfect alignment.

today was one of those days. those days that you have to write down somewhere. for posterity sake. or somethin'.

the alignment of the stars. oh, i kid. not really.

let me document the perfection of God's Holy Masterpiece that i like to call January 29 2008.

buz gets home from work as i'm cooking dinner.

that should be enough right there.

no, i wasn't wearing an apron, but i should've been. it was that magical. and wonderful.

and rare.

so i'm putting together a pico de gallo rotisserie chicken, some pasta for goo and big h that i knew had a chance, some rice with vegetables, and some steamed asparagus with lime/butter. i'm no pioneer woman, but i was excited. excited about how great it smelled. excited that i fixed a meal, period.

oh, and meanwhile my two children are playing together without any screams of someone "broking my yego hay-uh-caht-tehr!" and no 18-month-old girl screaming to be rescued from underneath her brother's chair or firetruck.

bliss. peace. whatever you want to call it.

i fix dinner and get it put on everyone's plate, knowing full well either big h would pretend vomit in response to at least one item on the plate or goo would look at it, hug pink blankie, and drink milk while continuously saying "ah duh, ah duh," while not touching a single thing.

(side note: since goo has been sick, her appetite has gone in the trash. my sweet girl who devours tomatoes, avocados, grilled chicken, pasta, bread, you name it, has turned to merely sitting at the table with all of us looking as pitiful as she can possibly can. it's a wonder she isn't skin and bones these days. but today, there was not much for breakfast and a staring contest with her lunch. so because i'm a mean mom, i took them both to the grocery store to get our two weeks' worth of groceries and didn't let her have a snack there or when we managed to get home.)

so we sit down, big h blesses the food, in melody nonetheless, and dinner commences. and when i say dinner commences, i mean all four of us ingested food.

it gets better.

goo seems ravenous. buz and i try not to pay any attention to her. she eats two helpings of the pasta right out of the gate. takes bites of the chicken and likes what she tastes and begins to take more. i look over to see big h inhaling the pasta AND the chicken. and while he's doing this, he says very confidently, "mama, i really yike this dinner. will you make it again? if you do, i will eat a lot of it next time too. will you eat a lot of your dinner daddy?" and i kid you not...he says "mama, i yike this dinner a yot" more times than i can count on one hand. i know.

and buz whispers, "look at the goo." i turn my head ever so gently as to not interrupt her apparent progress. when what to my wondering eyes should appear? my goo gnawin' on some asparagus.

Holy is the Lord.

she ended up finishing up her entire plate, including two asparagus spears, and pointed at a banana. polished it off too.

and i will tell you i haven't seen a happier goo in a long time.

until, of course, she wanted to take pink blankie into the bathtub and her mean-as-sin parents wouldn't let her. she lost some of her happiness.

and as we're finishing up with dinner? my brother calls. my brother who lives in another state. my brother who doesn't ever call just to say hi. (my brother who doesn't read this blog.)

then, i am ready to put goo to bed, and i could tell she was so tired. (long day at the grocery store earlier. as God is my witness, i vow never to take both of them to the grocery store again. i know i only have two children, but i SO forgot what it's like to be around an eighteen-month-old. have mercy on my soul and the souls of others with eighteen-month-olds.) so i decided to push the envelope. i got her in her jammies and lathered her bottom with prescription diaper rash ointment. (bff, the rash like you saw at the mall. OUCH.) let her love on pink blankie. turned out the light. and then i rocked her. not to sleep. just rocked her because she put up NO FIGHT WHATSOEVER.

more bliss.

she just lay there in the crevice of my arm that was once too big for her. now, she fits just right. and i sang.

**********screech on the record player**********

no, seriously. i did. and she still didn't put up a fight. i'm telling you. the girl was tired. because to have me sing a little "i love you, Lord. and i lift my voice" would have anyone putting up a fight.

unless they were tired little goo.

it was the best day.

3 comments:

Janelle said...

Gotta love the dinner victories! I had a dinner failure last night. Oh my, it was horrible. You would have thought I was beating my children!

Sounds like a great day was had by all.

penelope said...

Ironic, isn't it that I detailed the worst day ever the same day you told of your best day ever? I need one of those--soon! :)

Alana said...

Wow, I have no idea what it would be like for my children to eat their meal with no complaints and ask for more. I would faint dead on the floor! Great job, and can I have the recipe?