chaos7

Monday, July 31, 2006

Will Make Dinner For Sex

When the father figure is home, I get some insanely delicious meals. I open the freezer and scoff at the pile of frozen veggie meals within. Let it be known that he wasn’t always an excellent cook but with time and the realization that he’d starve waiting for this busy (I originally wrote “busty”) mama to whip something together, he’s become an accomplished at-home chef. Last night he prepared a meal that rocked my world so hard that he got lucky. The complete menu is in the most recent issue of Gourmet. It’s the one with pasta with tomatoes and basil and other stuff.

As the assistant to the head cook, I was in charge of grilling ears of corn and a huge salmon filet. It would’ve been no big deal had I not had a child attached to my hip who was spilling out of his diapers with curiosity. I tonged seven ears of corn (some to be used in tonight’s dinner performance which might include a lap dance for papa if I really, really like it…) over blazing coals as Willem made hand gestures and mimicked my “hot” warnings. We swapped sweat beads at the salmon sizzled and the ears roasted. I expertly balanced baby and my glass of wine. At 8:30 p.m. the meal was served and baby was sound asleep. We lingered over the fare with champagne and more vino and it was glorious. We floated up the stairs to the bedroom and canoodled like the birds and the bees. We vowed to make every Sunday’s meal as memorable as the Sunday prior. The bar has been set and I can’t wait until the end of the week.

We took W to the neighborhood swimming pool this weekend. We’re fortunate to have one that also has a separate kiddie pool with water 8 inches to 2 feet deep. This was the first time daddy had accompanied us to the cement pond and only my second time to take baby there but W’s caregivers have been taking him all summer. It was an almost paralyzing shock to witness how quickly the friendliness of the pool can turn into a horrific scene. W likes to walk everywhere and he won’t let you hold his hand as he strolls through the water. He wades in slow motion along the edges and sometimes ventures towards the depths unknowingly. A pause, a small wave and suddenly he goes under. He went backwards and was quickly submerged, his eyes wide open, his mouth agape and taking in water. He was only under for 2 seconds but it was enough to scare the bejeebus out of us. Water shot out of his nose as he caught his breath and choked on tears. I didn’t leap out of the pool and make a big deal of it (although my legs were weak and my heart was racing) but merely calmed him and over time, he was ready to take on the chlorine sea again. Of course, papa and I were just sick that we had allowed him to be taken to the pool by his caregivers and are completely grateful that nothing bad ever happen but no more pool outings. He’ll be dog paddling at home in his inflatable pond for a while.

Oh, and one more thing. How in the hell can I get my baby to sit down while taking a bath? For the love of God, doesn’t he realize that standing up in a giant claw foot with super tall, porcelain edges and slippery, wet limbs is a trick David Blaine won’t attempt? I know the chrome handles tempt him and he can’t help polishing them with his saliva but that’s what the housecleaner is for (but she uses a cleaner, not her own saliva). I gently sit his naked butt down and it’s game over, bath over, “Get me the heck out of here, how dare you mess with my rubber duckiness and soapy mojo.” I’m thinking of attaching suction cups to his behind.

1 comment:

jen said...

That sounds lovely. He cooks you the good stuff too, out of Gourmet! I don't think my husband would even know how to read that magazine! Good luck on next Sunday!
Jen