Pluses and Minuses

On the plus side, we had a great dinner at our local sushi restaurant. Since it's Monday, the place was deserted and we could let our toddler roam free. They love him there because not only is he the world's cutest little boy, but he eats his own sushi roll (with seaweed and salmon and avocado) and miso soup every time we visit. On the minus side, I got distracted and forgot to take my insulin with dinner. Then we drove home to meet my parents and give them dinner I'd cooked in the crock pot. Then I noticed it was gorgeous outside so we took the dogs for a long walk. And suddenly it was 8:30 and I remembered my dinner from 6pm. That would be why my blood sugar is 386. Sigh.

So while it was a good evening, I'm wiped out now all because of one stupid oversight. I've taken a gallon of insulin and am gonna have some water and go lie down. Here's to a better morning and no low blood sugars tonight.

Taking turns with a toddler

I went to bed when Ian did last night around 9pm. I didn't feel so hot and was already mentally planning for how I would deal with my work obligations the next day. "If I set up the server and make and outline, maybe I can get Stephanie to give my presentation for me tomorrow afternoon. Or maybe if I go to bed now, I'll have the strength to rally for 45 minutes via Webex." As I curled up under the blankets I thought, "as least if I feel this bad tomorrow I won't have to pack Ian's lunch. Rich can do that."

Fast forward a few hours to Rich coming to bed saying he didn't feel so hot. I was super asleep so I think my reaction was along the lines of "uh huh, yeahzzzzz". But at 2:30am he reiterated that he was indeed about to die. We got up and got him into the shower, hoping the hot water would help. I asked him if he wanted a giant glass of water and he said, "yeah, that sounds good."

Just then, Ian piped up from the bed, "I want water too!" Sigh. Yeah, I'll get you water too. "I wanna come!" Fine, I'll carry all 32.5 pounds of you downstairs to the kitchen at 3am for water. "I want juice." Fine. "I want Lightning McQueen cup." Fine.

By the time I carted all 32.5lb of him plus a giant glass of water plus a Lightning McQueen novelty cup of apple juice, I was definitely feeling weary. But we dug out the heating pad for Rich and he drank his water and Ian drank his juice and somehow we all managed to get back to sleep.

7am rolled around and Rich was certainly not going anywhere. So since I no longer felt at Death's door but perhaps just in Death's zip code, I dragged myself out of bed, packed Ian's diapers since Rich was too sick, dressed our son, dressed myself and ignored the state of my hair in favor of a ponytail. And I packed Ian's lunch afterall.

Since Rich still felt bad after our presentations this afternoon, he went home to sleep. So I picked up Ian after work and took him for dinner and out to play and then packed his lunch for tomorrow and set out his clothes for picture day and started his diapers in the wash (which won't be ready for the dryer until 11:30 tonight by my estimate). Ian was "good as gold" (as my mother says) the whole time, so that was a relief, but it's still tiring.

And there's still work stuff I have to do. This. This is one of the reasons I haven't been blogging lately.

I do feel bad for Rich because he is pretty sick and feels worse than I do. But there was a part of me that wanted to stomp my feet and say "No fair! I was sick first! Quit hogging all the sick!"

But I'll just go start the diapers on their second cycle and tuck my husband in on the couch before I finally get a shower to improve the situation with my hair.

Feeding a need

I bought a chicken last week. It had a sell by date of 5/13, so I knew time was running out (if it hadn't already) to get it cooked. It was huge and cost $8.72 so I was loathe to throw it out. We were going to have chicken for dinner tonight, dammit, if it killed us. It may still kill us. Our son was woefully tired when we got home. By the time I pick him up at 5:30, nurse him in the van for 15 minutes, stop at the store and get home, it's almost 6:30. Dinner was going to be tight, but we were having this damn chicken.

I wanted to grill it because that usually is faster than the oven. The last time I tried this, the chicken drippings blackened the skin, so I tried it again with a foil barrier. That worked reasonably well, but we were running out of daylight and toddler patience and time all around. I decided to finish cooking it in the Advantium. But even that was going to take too long. So I cut it up into sections and finished it that way. It was the most complicated, messy, unappetizing version of grilled chicken I could have created.

Add to that a fussy toddler and I was just done. I was never going to try to cook anything in our house again. My husband has many wonderful talents, but cooking is not one of them. I think he can cook three things, one of which is Steak-ums. So if I want food at home, I have to make it. But when am I going to make it if we don't get home until after 6 and the toddler is running out of steam by 7:30? It's a sprint to make food, which isn't very fun.

Oh, and I had avocados that were going to go bad, so I had to make guacamole tonight whether I wanted to or not. And I had to find something to pack for Ian's lunch tomorrow. So while I angrily chopped up avocados and mixed cilantro I ranted to Rich about how food just is not fun. It was not a pretty sight.

We had some quiet time in our respective corners, him banging on things in the garage and me banging dishes. After an hour or so things started looking up. I took the leftover chicken and dumped it in a pot to make soup. I packaged up the guacamole, which Ian will get some of tomorrow. And I took the sweet potatoes I'd baked during dinner and made gluten-free sweet potato biscuits.

And even though the chicken was a mess, I steamed asparagus with shaved Parmesan cheese and toasted pine nuts and that was delicious. I could have eaten just that.

So food can be fun sometimes. Maybe just not on weeknights.