Blogging right now probably isn't in my best interest as I'm ALSO on round two of rice-cooking, but when the baby sleeps and the homework is done and the boy is still at school, a lady needs to write!
When I went to bed last night, Daddy casually said "wait til you see Little Man in the morning." And wouldn't say more. I was intrigued, but let's face, I'm a tired lady. Little Lady is teething and getting up a million times a night to eat, to be held, to glare at me while I rock her and throw the nuk on the floor. Nights are a little rough at the moment. So after a few moments of wondering, I feel fast asleep. For like, 5 minutes, when I had to get up with Little Lady. Seriously, how do they know when you get into the perfect spot in bed? It's like a mom-is-resting-radar that blares in their evil little minds the second you hit relaxing mode. "Oh, mom's not busy, I should cry." Sigh. You already forgot about Little Man, didn't you? I did too. Not like forgot that he's mine, but forgot what Daddy said.
So Little Lady decided a 6:30 wake up call was in store for us all this morning. While normally that is frowned upon, we forgot to set our alarm. Well done in getting daddy to work on time this morning, Little One, well done. But now that he's up, PLEASE, for the love of all that is Holy in this world, will you please let me sleep a little longer? Yeah, she didn't go for it. She did, however, hang out quietly long enough for me to make a pot of coffee.
So I'm hanging out with my happy girl at the crack of dawn, drinking hot coffee and coaxing her to take a step. Because the night before, she took her first step. And only Little Man saw it. But it happened. But not for me. And I know it happened because she did it today at work for my friend when I wasn't there. Gah! How do I miss this!? Anyway, life is good. Coffee makes life okay at 6:30 in the morning. I take a big swig and look up to see Little Man walking out of his room, all sleepy and cute. And it is all I can do to not spit this swig of coffee out all over the room and pee my pants from laughing. Because he colored all over his face with marker.
So far so good, people. And for the record, it is wild rice. Last August I had a wild rice burger in Duluth that was so freaking good I have thought about it since. Yet here we are in late January and I have yet to make it. And if I burn the rice again, we're gonna have buns and sweet potato fries for dinner. And I'll wait until we get back up to Duluth to have it again.
But back to the day. I'm all over the place. Little Man gets on the bus, Little Lady is napping, I get my homework done for one of my classes. She wakes up the minute I finish and decide to pick up a magazine...that dang evil radar thing gets me every time. Except this time. Right now, she is napping very nicely. I think having a snoring dog right next to her helps. It's making me want to fall asleep, too. Although, that could also have something to do with the sleep deprivation. Right.
We play. I start cooking rice. We eat lunch. I stir rice a few times. I completely forget about rice while Little Lady, completely covered in cottage cheese and grapes, laughs and flings graham crackers to the dogs. She is so messy, she needs a bath. But, my smart brain thinks, why not use the same amount of water and just take a shower with her? I LOVE showers. No matter that I'm about to go workout. We have a nice, hot, relaxing shower. We so use twice as much water as a bath would have used. She stack cups and splashes in the water that collects in them. When I tell her we are all done she says "nanananana" and we stay in longer because who can resist cute babies saying no?
Eventually we get out. At this point, you'd think I'd smell the rice. You'd think I'd walk into the kitchen to check on it because it would have dawned on me that, yes, there is food cooking and yes, you are a moron. You'd be wrong. I get dressed. I take a full 10 minutes to find the shirt I want to wear in the bottom of the basket of miraculously folded clothes. I marvel at how nice clothes look when they are folded. I play "naked baby on the loose" and chase her around the house. She cackles and crawls faster when I tell her I'm going to get her. And I'm still completely oblivious to the smell.
Seriously. Maybe 30 minutes after we get out of the shower, I stroll into the kitchen to grab another cup of Joe. Oh crap! At this point I'm just glad flames aren't shooting up from the wooden spoon that is literally stuck to the bottom of the pan along with the charred remains of what was once wild rice. Awesome. I dump water in the pan, turn off the heat and stir. And then, like any sane person would, I TASTE it. As if. My thought process went something like, "Well, sometimes beers are good smokey, maybe rice burgers can be smokey?" Followed by "Blech! Aw, nasty, it tastes like I just ate a stick from the fire pit and there wasn't even a marshmallow on it." Followed by "Smores. I wonder if there are any graham crackers left..." Yes people, my brain is always this crazy. Be thankful I keep it to myself most of the time.
And then we had to go to work. And now my kids are both awake and home and I have a face to smirk at and rice to not burn. The weekend is calling. Happy Friday, friends!