Today I Cooked a Meal

Today was one of those days when I kept asking myself, "If I can't do this with one child, how will I do it with two and more?" In my calmer, saner moments, I know that we mothers learn how to handle gracefully more and more with each child, but in the chaos of today, I couldn't imagine it.

The day started like any other day and I had only one goal: I planned to make and deliver a dinner for a fellow parishioner who just had her third baby, and I would make double batches of everything to be efficient and serve the same meal for my family. Doesn't sound hard at all, right?

Started our day with the same old routine of nursing the toddler while he slowly wakes up, tromping downstairs to feed the cat, make the coffee, cook breakfast, put away yesterday's clean dishes. There was some excitement because my package of maternity clothing had arrived from JC Penny, so I tried on some outfits (which actually FIT and were PRETTY) before starting my day. Of course, I am glossing over normal life with a toddler. For example, showering, dressing, and doing one's ablutions involve unending intervention with the toddler taking clothes off of hangers, obtaining owies, getting into drawers, putting toothbrushes where they don't belong, and so forth.

John and I trundled downstairs and I chopped the vegetables to saute for my lentil soup. I began sauteing as John was melting down, then sitting crabbily in his chair and yawning. Is it nap time already? John is in that in-between stage of dropping his morning nap, so sometimes he really needs one, sometimes he doesn't. And some days he really needs one but won't take it . . . like today. I turned off the sauteing vegetables and hauled John upstairs to try to help him fall asleep. An hour later, he had enjoyed some quiet restful time, but was absolutely not going to fall asleep and now I had wasted an entire hour of my day.

I realized that I didn't have any disposable Tupperware in which to deliver this meal to the parishioner, so we'd need to go out for errands. Which would mean John needed to eat a snack first. Back downstairs, but the little munchkin refused to eat a snack. Fine, we're going out on errands anyway.

We got in the van. As long as we're going out, I might as well stop by the drug store for a couple of important items, so we went there first. I was driving on fumes, so we stopped by the gas station too. By now, John is signing that he wants to EAT, so I offer him what is normally one of his favorite snack bars. He refused, so I figured he must not be that hungry. Of course, he was still hungry enough to refuse whilst whining and complaining about it. Next we visited the grocery store where I had to walk up and down all the aisles three times before I could find an employee to point me to the Tupperware, which I had walked past repeatedly.

By now it was 12:30, past John's lunchtime, and dangerously close to his afternoon nap time. Plus I am vaguely aware that I have only five hours left to make this meal and get it delivered. We got home and I juggled cleaning the cat's litter box, throwing in a load of laundry, making lunch for John and me, and finally sauteing the vegetables for the lentil soup. I also preheated the oven and put the sweet potatoes inside, not setting a timer because, hey, I'd be back within an hour and it's not like I would forget them.

John ate his lunch and then threw a lot of food on the floor before I could get to him, so we had to go through the rigmarole of forcing him to pick it up piece by piece (which involves six-month-pregnant Mama on her hands and knees too, an increasingly difficult maneuver). Upstairs we went for nap time and I did manage to have him asleep within 20 minutes or so. (Meanwhile, I'm feeling successful that it took only 20 minutes, but wondering anxiously how I could manage even that while caring for two kids.)

The hurricane-toddler finally asleep, I went into my office to do some important paperwork that I really did want completed today. Sometime later I went back to the kitchen and turned on the range to resume cooking the lentil soup when I realized that the sweet potatoes had been baking for 90 minutes by now. Ooops! Thank goodness they were just going to be mashed for sweet potato corn bread tonight and sweet potato pancakes tomorrow morning.

Just as I turned my attention to the lentil soup again, John woke up, so I remembered to turn off the range before going to get him, change his diaper, and so forth ("and so forth" always means the many interludes per day when I nurse him, play puzzles with him, read a few books, tickle him, pick up after him, etc.).

Back to the kitchen we go and now it's close to 3:00. The lentil soup is nothing more than a few sauteed vegetables and I'm supposed to have everything delivered by 5:30. Now I'm really worried. I set up John in his Learning Tower at the counter with a puzzle and peanut butter on crackers. Of course, he coats his puzzle in peanut butter and is asking me to place every single piece in its place, as this is a new puzzle and he doesn't know how to operate it yet. At some point I called Chris (who was working away from home today) in heightened anxiety, asking when he would be home in hopes that he could occupy John while I cooked. No such luck today!

Finally I got into a groove, getting the lentil soup percolating, next tackling the baked chicken, then the sweet potato corn bread. In the meanwhile, John was occasionally playing nicely by himself, occasionally insisting I step away from the kitchen to play with him or read to him, and often trying to be very involved in my work. Every time I opened the refrigerator, he dashed inside and stole a condiment. The dishes were mounting in a tower in the sink, perilously close to crashing down. The linoleum floor was covered disgustingly with food, both from my spills and from my pretending not to notice John throwing food on the ground for attention. (If I'm not mistaken, if a parent doesn't have the energy or ability to properly correct an infraction, it's better to pretend not to notice it so at least the kiddo doesn't think the rules are changing, he just thinks Mom is blind!) At one point I investigated because I heard John in the den saying, "eeeeeew," where I discovered him sitting and staring worriedly at a pile of the cat's vomit on the rug.

Lastly I got the Lactation Cookies (much yummier than they sound) going. I was in "the zone," juggling two ovens, a soup on the stove, and various timers indicating when I had to turn this or stir that. The laundry had been switched to the drier at some point and a second load begun in the washer. John discovered that eating raw oats was good, throwing them was more fun, and eating chocolate chips was the absolute best.

My pregnancy-induced carpel tunnel syndrome has set in, just like it did during my pregnancy with John, and by then my wrists were really giving me trouble from all the physical labor in the kitchen. (Boy, that cookie dough was thick to mix!) Last night I woke up in the middle of the night with both my hands entirely numb, so I think soaking my hands and wrists in ice water before bed will be in order tonight!

I had tried several times today to call the parishioner to tell her I was coming with a meal, but I had an incorrect phone number for her, adding to my anxiety that she was at home, juggling three kids, wondering whether anyone would be arriving with food or whether she would be ordering delivery pizza at the last minute. How happy I was when Chris arrived home, I left John with him, and zoomed down the road to deliver the hot meal to her. (It might sound like I'm bragging because I did this nice deed, but--seriously--I am not. I have been only too aware lately how wretchedly small-hearted I am in Christian terms. It's one thing to make a nice meal in my spacious kitchen where I stay home and can easily afford buying the extra food this week. It's another thing, for example, to be the missionaries at our parish--regular folks like you and me--who recently went to Jamaica to a sanatorium for the profoundly mentally ill and wretchedly disfigured to feed them, bathe them, diaper them, and love them. Yeah, like I'm some heroine.)

So, today it took me an entire day to cook one meal. And now I am enjoying an hour to myself while Chris plays with John. (And while I try to ignore that John is almost continuously calling "Mama! Mama!" through several closed doors.) Downstairs awaits a disastrously messy kitchen, one load of laundry to be dried, three loads of laundry to be folded, and a den scattered with John's toys to be picked up.

Today was nothing special. I have one child. Just one. I'm not my friend Elaine who just had her third child six weeks ago, or my friend Sarah who had her fifth four months ago, or my friend Karen who had her thirteenth (yes, 13) seven weeks ago. Every time I think how fun it will be that John is turning two in fifteen weeks, I am gripped with fear that I am due with a newborn a week before that! On days like today, I think all I can do is keep children alive, breathe, and keep us all fed (because there is always macaroni and cheese from a box, if nothing else). How do I think I can obtain my LLL certification, do a little volunteering at church, meet my new goal of attending one weekday morning Mass per week, and maybe decorate our new home a little?

I will plod ahead, following the mothers who are going ahead of me, but I won't say that I'm plodding ahead fearlessly!