foot washing day

147.0 (wooo! end of plateau?)

Mike plunked Leif down beside me on the floor and took off with the kiddo for school this morning. Amiably, Leif piled toys on the cat, then climbed onto my lap to paw at my shirt, so I hefted him up, tucked him to my bosom, paused to pull a chunk of carpet out of his mouth when he gagged, and as he settled in to nursing I thought to myself, why, here's a nice time to organize the events of the weekend. What a mess that was.


Saturday: Anticipating an easy weekend of baby-minding, reading, and tidying, I plunked Leif down on the floor in the kitchen while I swept around him and did some dishes. His stroller sits near the screen door by the stove, ready to serve as an observation/containment perch for the tot while we're cooking, so before long he scooted over to it and pulled it closer. A moment later he began cackling with laughter, then paused, then roared in hilarity again. I looked over and at first was charmed; Sookie had climbed into the basket and was peeking out at him. Then I watched as he patted the basket, Sookie shot out and wrapped her front legs around his head and savaged his face with her teeth and claws, then she sucked herself back into the basket and he broke into hysterical laughter, patting the basket for more. The child who acts like we're pulling his arms off when we change his onesie thinks it's hilarious to be mauled by a cat. Figures.

We slept curled together in the middle of the bed, guarded by the furry sentries against the perils of the night. I didn't dream, slipping off to my nightly mental mantra of "no thinking at night, no thinking at night". In the darkness the ghosties get me - those that were and those that are coming.

On Sunday I let the baby and cat pull each other around the floor and made dough for a brioche tart to welcome home the men-folk. At 3pm I received a forlorn phone call from the airport, where Mike and Gavin were stranded after just missing their flight home, having been delayed after a failed attempt to fix my mother's washing machine (the best thing that can be said about this being that nobody's head was crushed - Mike's presence evidently caused the shower to break, also, so he was off to a bad start already). I put the brioche in the fridge and made Brownies of Aloneyness instead, gave Leif a bath, tucked him in bed, and hemmed my new dress in front of soothingly inane television. Then came the second bad phone call of the day: "Um, I'm at the car, and..." "Oh no, don't tell me you forgot your keys." "I forgot my keys." And still a 2-hour drive from home.

So it was that on Monday I called in to work, woke up all the neighbors trying to deactivate the alarm on the shiny white Malibu, and headed to town to retrieve the mamacar with my spare key (Mike being unable owing to a) lack of car seat and b) lack of money to pay for rental car). Driving the Malibu was like driving a spacecraft, and I didn't make it even halfway before popping off the audiobook, harnessing my inner Starbuck, and hitting the gas to loud music. Good news: all the dramas seem to have dried up and fallen off of the Darkness. Bad news: I still can't sing for beans. But who can hear me on a winding road in the rainforest? Getcher hands offa my wooOOooman muthafuuuuu-GAAAAHHH! Got to watch those one-lane hairpin turns into oncoming vehicles, even in a viper.

Despite the beating on my wallet, I counted the trip to town and back a success, being as I managed to buy Easter clothes for everyone, food for everyone, a Safeway deli chicken sandwich for myself, and still made it home in time to pick Gavin up from school - but Mike was not yet finished mangling the weekend. As I lugged groceries into the kitchen he said, "The power cord on the laptop is broken and I accidentally ran it dead in the airport watching a movie while waiting for the plane and all my files for work are on it and WHAT SHOULD I DO?!" I told him what he should do; I put a beer in his hand, made bbq ribs for dinner, then plied him with Ben & Jerrys and cocktails. We chucked the kids in bed and croodled in front of Heroes, and suddenly the power cord flickered to life long enough to siphon all his work files off the laptop. "You're so smart," he said. Yes, yes I am. :)

And so the rest of the week has so far rolled along with fair success. Yesterday Leif horked up a chunk of rug, a hairball, and a dead cockroach (not at the same time), Gavin has had lightsaber duels with his friend from school, Sookie has been sleeping across my neck again after a few weeks of usurping Po's resting nook, and work has been eventful (see next entry: "Baiting the Floor-peeker").

Easter! Chocolate! wooos!