So far my lofty “don’t skip dessert” vow isn’t really bringing all of the balance and joy to my 2011 that I’d pictured. I mean, sure, I’m enjoying the chocolate and everything, but for some reason that nightly square of dark chocolate has yet to fix everything stressful in my life. IMAGINE.
[Aside: Thank you for the birthday wishes for my dad. He enjoyed them very much, and they proved to be the perfect complement to his birthday festivities, which apparently began with my stepmom putting a candle in his cappuccino foam that morning. I wouldn’t have believed such a feat was possible, but I have photographic proof. We know how to party in our family, yes we do.]
Anyway. I was thinking on the dessert thing because coming off the week of the Snowpocalypse left us all blinking in the sunlight and sliding around in the driveway, wondering what to do with our newfound freedom. And I immediately headed to the grocery store and proceeded to shop like a woman recently emerging from a bunker, which I guess I kind of was.
Look, we ate FINE during our week encased in ice, truly. But somehow I had not properly anticipated being housebound for an entire week, and although we have a stocked pantry and a freezer full of animal parts, we were just a couple of days into it when we seemed to run out of everything fresh. No salad fixings. No apples. No bananas. No baby carrots! The only frozen veggies I was able to unearth were broccoli (which Otto refuses to eat) and corn.
I am pretty sure I had scurvy AND rickets by the time I made it out to Publix this weekend. Which explains why I came home with a car full of fruit and veggies, and have been all YAY SPINACH and WHO WANTS ME TO GRATE A CRAPLOAD OF APPLES INTO THESE PANCAKES? ever since.
Maybe fresh asparagus isn’t a great dessert, but I’m grateful to have it, anyway.
Of course, the looser translation of not skipping dessert is that I’m supposed to be having more fun in general. So after filling up my house with produce we decided it would be a really great idea to take the kids to a basketball game. This decision was based upon the pertinent factors of:
1) The tickets were super cheap
2) no one had been out of the house all week and the game was OUT OF THE HOUSE
3) the children are suckers for soft pretzels.
We headed off on our adventure yesterday and as the kids bickered in the back seat on the way there, I realized that we are not very smart. Monkey is still sick/irritable and Chickadee is moody because that’s her job. Was this an ideal combination in a loud arena? All of the bananas in the world was not going to make this a smarter move.
But we bravely soldiered on!
The good news is that soft pretzels really solve a multitude of problems. (I could not have a soft pretzel, so I had some soggy cheese fries, instead. When we got home later I immediately made a giant vegetable stir fry to repent.) Also, it turned out to be a really good game.
The bad news is that it’s incredibly loud during a game. WHO KNEW? Monkey held it together pretty well but Chickadee—who insisted on sitting next to me—complained any time I cheered. Apparently I am louder than an entire stadium of people and the pep band. Anyway, she had to sulk about that some (curse me and my need to cheer for our team), and I was only able to jolly her out of it by having periodic conversations about the cheerleaders and the dancers.
Surly or not, I couldn’t be more proud of the feminist I’m raising. Heh. Typical comments from her included:
“Why do they all the look the same?”
“Why are they all so THIN? Are you not ALLOWED to be on the squad if you’re heavier?”
“What about their hair? Are they not allowed to have short hair?”
[Answers from me:
“Because there is a very narrow American ideal of what constitutes beauty. Dumb, huh?”
“Because they’ve all bought into that ideal and think they need to conform to it.”
“I don’t know if heavier girls try out and don’t make it or if they don’t bother trying out. That girl on the end is almost a normal weight—let’s cheer for her.”
“Short hair isn’t NOT allowed, but it’s all part of what they think makes a woman pretty.”]
Then they did a routine to Willow Smith’s “I Whip My Hair” and Chickadee just LOST it, declaring she hates that song and look, this is why they all have long hair! So they can whip it back and forth to a song by a 9-year-old! Next time maybe I’ll arm her with a stack of The Feminine Mystiques and let her pass them out to the cheerleaders.
Monkey was personally affronted that the t-shirt cannon never sent a shirt up our way AND any time anyone in front of us stood up to move around at all he was convinced they were doing it just to block his view of the action. But, like I said, he did pretty well overall, and when our team pulled it out and won at the end, he was on his feet, arms in the air, telling me that he’d known all along they could do it.
Today is our last day of Extended Time Off From Life; school (finally) resumes tomorrow and there are decisions that will have to be made in terms of Monkey having surgery and such. I am handling it all with my usual grace and patience, which is to say that I barely slept last night and I didn’t have any breakfast this morning because the decision between cereals felt too overwhelming. In short: it is not feeling very desserty up in here, but tomorrow is another day.