An entire week has passed since my last post. I have had neither time to write, nor the material. Because I have been busy. Very, very busy. I blocked off the first two weeks of September long ago so that I could tend to personal business without the distraction of deadlines. An unexpected side effect was that I neglected the blog. So to those who visited and kept seeing the same tired post from Sept. 3, I apologize. And I hope you understand.
During the past week, I have spent my time ...
... welcoming my darn-near perfect nephew Carter into the world.
... riding on a hospital elevator with my 2 1/2-year-old nephew who was, without warning, overcome with vomititis. Not knowing what was happening to his little body, he waved his hands in front of his face, creating a rather unfortunate spewing effect that was like nothing I've ever seen.
... playing Wal-Mart in my driveway with this same nephew. Holly bushes were the major retailer; seams and cracks in the driveway were roads and turn lanes, navigated by a Little Tykes shopping buggy filled with plastic Easter eggs. We bought donuts from the holly bushes.
... fielding questions from the new mother (my sister) about breastfeeding and assuring her that four days after delivery, it is perfectly normal to stomp your foot and grind your teeth every time the baby latches on.
... sharing my own labor/delivery and nursing experiences with the same sister, who is beginning to understand that a chest can expand beyond your wildest dreams, or nightmares. A week after one of my July babies was born, I was sick and tired of wearing a sweaty and wet t-shirt in the 100-degree heat, so by 5 p.m., I just gave up and sat on the edge of the bed, nursing the baby and clutching a bottle of Advil. Topless. When my husband came home and saw me, he dropped his drycleaning, and I think he sort of gagged.
He was rendered speechless, but still I said, "Don't. Say. Anything." And then I started to weep. "I could feed Indonesia."
... saving money at the grocery store. I am not proud of this, but the first step to recovery is to admit you have a problem. I prepared Hamburger Helper and Chicken Helper two consecutive nights. We call these "easy nights." And if that leads you to believe that Amy Is Taking It Easy, you would be wrong. Easy Night must take place when everyone has to be different places at the same time and has to inhale their dinner. I am particularly proud of my inventiveness with the Hamburger Helper. Leftover taco meat from three nights earlier saved the day (and prep time), and leftover rice from two nights earlier stretched it so that everyone could have seconds, if they wanted. Surprisingly, nobody wanted seconds. This particular Hamburger Helper dish was called Taco Something-or-Other and smacked of a dish that my great-grandmother invented decades ago, but still lives on in memories as "Mexican Disaster." We called the recent Hamburger Helper dish "chili," so as not to raise any questions. The jig was up when someone said, "Please pass the bowl of fake cheese sauce."
... wasting too many hours on Facebook, wondering why in the world I was wasting too many hours on Facebook. For the life of me, I can't determine the appeal of reading what 16-year-olds are doing at 9:44 p.m. They're happy; bored; studying; looking forward to the weekend; blah, blah, blah. Come to think of it, such information is really just a shorthand version of the post you are reading right now.
Have a very happy—and busy—Wednesday.