23 October, 2013

To Bridget Jones, Thanks for Everything, KB

7:35 am. Moving back the alarm clock might be actually working because I am slightly ahead of schedule. Go to drag Danny out of bed. Literally. As he is still asleep when I pick him up and his feet are dragging along the edge of the bed. If he gains one more pound my back will go.

7:40 am. Bzzzzzzzzzzz! Is that Danny's electric toothbrush? Is he brushing his teeth before breakfast like I asked him to yesterday morning? I am the perfect mother, my kid listened to me! Brilliant!

7:42 am. Attempt at perfect mother morning ruined as Danny accidentally drops his plate on the floor and is now crying over spilled breakfast.
"Oh, Honey, it's OK. I'll make you another one. We don't cry over spilled food, it's OK!" I console him, while attempting to bite back my tears over now ruined carpet that I just had shampooed.
Make him new breakfast and try to clean the carpet while finishing breakfast yogurt.

8:15 am. Finally in the shower and no one is busting in with meaningless problems. Am at peace.

8:30 am. Decide to skip blow drying hair and look for a hat instead. Realize that we might actually leave the house with time to spare because Danny finished his breakfast and is completely dressed. Am the perfect mother again.

8:59 am. A minute before the bell rings, I remind Danny that when he goes out for recess he has to have his hat and scarf and coat on.
"Yeah, like I did yesterday!" he replies. Am I starting to repeat myself?

9:00 am. I watch the class line file into school and I bolt for the car. In the 3 minutes it takes me to drive home decide that I have plenty of time to make gravy* before I have to go back to pick Danny up. I check the recipe and total time is 3 hours. I calculate in my head: time for breakfast tea, then off to TJs to get everything I need, skip the drycleaners since everyone has new clothes they can wear... Plenty of time!

11:00 am. Right. Cart is full of large cans of tomatoes, the imported kind not domestic, and olive oil among other bits. I now know why my Italian friends' pantries are full of enormous cans of whole plum tomatoes – it's all for gravy. As the cashier scans the numerous cans of tomatoes, complementing me on the right choice of brand, she asks if I am going to use a food mill or a boat motor to process these. F**k! Have none, don't have time to buy any, and the only person that has both is at work. "Oh, food mill is the only way to go!" I reply after a slight pause. Drive home and get out my food processor. This might be my first and last time making gravy.

11:30 am. Oh bugger! Just sprayed myself right in the face with tomato juice! Bugger, bugger!

12:36 pm. Kitchen and myself are completely covered in tomatoes. But my French pot is full of delicious-looking and slowly bubbling gravy. Didn't have enough time to razor slice the garlic, next time when I am not on a clock. Quickly do the math and the gravy will be done before I have to leave for pick-up. Start scrubbing.

3:45 pm. Back home from pick-up and attempting to defrost my bottom after standing in the wind for 10 minutes waiting for the kids to come out. Looks like there is no lice or pink eye letters sent home and there is also homework tonight, which is a relief because we have CCD in 45 minutes. Am a perfect mother once again because I talk Danny into squeezing his piano practice before CCD and he totally agrees. Peek at the resting gravy, deliciously deep red and smells like tomatoes.

6:15 pm. Why does CCD have to be an hour and 15 minutes long? Kids poop out after 45 minutes. And I am starving. Danny complained that his knees hurt after kneeling for a rosary. Stopped myself from telling him that Catholicism is not a religion for wussies. As we are about to pull into the garage, Avicii comes on the radio and Danny asks if we could sit in the car and listen. I tell him I have it at home and will put it on as soon as we get in. He asks me to loop it.

6:16 pm. Oh bloody hell, how does one loop on this bloody iPod?

7:04 pm. Just realized I made enough gravy to last us a year. Right.

7:10 pm. Kid is fed, and is jamming upstairs to my iPod while drawing. 50 minutes away from Modern Family.

7:14 pm. Times repeated "socks or slippers" today so far 7. Make it 8.

7:19 pm. Post blog and then return self to the new Bridget Jones book. Tell self not to forget divide out the gravy to freeze. Find a bottle of wine.

*Gravy – aka pasta sauce to those who is not Italian or does not hang out in Italian kitchens. 

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