Last night I fell asleep in Baby N’s room while nursing. I woke up just before L got up to go to work and I have absolutely no idea how long I’d been asleep. I can’t remember ever being this tired. I literally nodded off while sitting with Little A and nursing the baby this afternoon. How I love that head rolling asleep, head jerking awake thing. I was probably dribbling too.
This morning I took the girls out to an indoor play area thing with a cafe attached. The website promised espresso drinks, comfortable seating and free wifi. I somehow imagined a kind of calm adult area with excellent caffeinated beverages and perhaps delicious classy chocolates. The conversation, it would be flowing; the kids, happily playing in an adjacent area, (quietly of course) would occasionally come by to say, look mummy I went down the slide, and we’d say, that’s nice dear, and go back to surfing the internet. What can I say? I am chronically sleep deprived.
The reality was that it took from 7am to almost 11am for myself and the girls to be ready to leave the house. It was one of those mornings when the successful juggling of newborn and toddler needs was simply not happening, with all the juggling balls being dropped left, right and center. Maybe if I stopped trying to keep their noses clean, we’d have got out the door about an hour earlier. If we could also ditch the feeding, changing and dressing stuff, we’d have been good to go at the crack of dawn. Anyway, we drove out to this sort of strip mall in an industrial estate and entered screaming child hell. Little A was already grumpy when we got there, as was the child of my friend. The girls were given books for Christmas presents (do I need to say we’ve not even written cards yet, never mind done any shopping? We’re in serious denial) and Little A opened hers. My friends child, M, had a strop because the book was for Little A, Little A had a strop because M was trying to read the book; instant simultaneous toddler meltdown. Success. Then a friend of my friend arrived, with a crying toddler. The picture was complete. Within 10 minutes both Little A and M were in tears again because they’d been hit in the backs by bigger kids flying down the slide. Little A was exceptionally needy the whole morning and wouldn’t go on the enormous padded multicoloured structure by herself. I kept climbing up with her, to encourage her to play, then getting almost stuck in some of the narrower parts. Some of the other kids were little hellions, I’m looking at you, Jewel, and us adults were run ragged trying to keep things on course. In between times we tried to eat some disgusting microwaved spaghetti with a little sauce dusted on top, and tried to drink some pretty foul coffee. The wifi and comfy seats may have existed but unless they were in an invisible sound-proofed chamber I’m guessing they were not really relaxing. Attempting to leave was a whole other challenge, what with the running away and the refusal to put on clothes, and the removal of the wrangled-on clothes. And the running away. I feel like I have a split personality trying to steer the obstacle course of toddler moods. Adding another child to the mix has only heightened the crazy performer role. Sometimes I feel like I should just be completely silent, and perhaps mime my wishes to Little A. It can’t be any less effective than trying to reason with her when she is over-tired. By nap time (late, obviously) I was absolutely wiped out. Fortunately Baby N slept through the entire debacle, only waking the instant I climbed into bed in an attempt to slip in a stealth nap while everyone else was asleep.
This evening, just before we cooked dinner, we had our first instance of full on meltdown by both kids at the same time. Real tears all round and wails and gasps and the whole shebang. L and I looked at each other simultaneously thinking what the f* have we done? We had to laugh though, really, the volume was insanely high, and those stress levels could kill. Anyway, for dinner we didn’t make polenta, which was excellent, although the Turkey, Tomatillo, and Bean Burritos were average at best. They were easy though. Ground chicken, garlic, onion, salt and pepper and red pepper were sautéed then joined by chicken stock, pinto beans, tomatillo salsa and cilantro. The mixture was rolled into flour tortillas (badly) with Monterey Jack cheese. More salsa and more cheese topped the burritos which were finished under the grill.
Grilled cheese is always a good thing, and I am quite partial to a good fresh flour tortilla. Unfortunately the filling looked and tasted more than a little institutional. The ground turkey was very grey, with only the occasional sprig of herb and piece of red pepper to break up the monotony. As the salsa was reasonably spicy there was at least a bit of a kick to dinner, but it tasted shallow rather than rich, flavour-wise. It managed to be on the bland side, despite the spice. It’s always a little strange to cook something like ground meat without any seasonings aside from salt and pepper, and to add the flavour entirely from a bottle at the end. I would have thought that a couple more ingredients added to the initial meat mixture could have gone a long way in rounding out the flavours in this meal. Tomorrow we make it again but using ground pork and a chipotle based salasa for Pork, Chipotle, and Bean Burritos. I have to say I’m not so excited about that. Also on the not-excited about front; I’m taking Baby N for her 2 month check up in the morning. If memory serves me correctly, and I could well be wrong, I think that may be the check up where they start the barrage of injections. Fun times. Also, and finally, when did our tiny baby get to be 2 months old? And how come Little A has the ears and feet of a child? Where is my baby? What’s going on? And how can time fly by so fast when the days are so excruciatingly slow?