Trying to be Domestic, Not Pregnant

A pregnant woman should not be allowed to go into a store, while hungry, by herself, ever. It just shouldn't be allowed. I've asked Christopher to, from now on out, take a very detailed list that I'll provide him with, and go in my place. This won't be necessary for all shopping, but when it comes to the health food store where all gluten free goodies are acquired, its probably better this way.

I do have some self control though, I put a lot of things back where I got them from, after thinking things through as I pushed them around in my cart. One of those things, was a box of instant style individually wrapped packages of apple cinnamon oatmeal. When I first saw it on the shelf, I got excited. The kids haven't had much variety lately, and this would be perfect (and easy! Things are never easy in a gluten free house). But the more I thought about it... am I really that lazy? We have oatmeal at home. Why don't I just cook them that, and put some apples in it? Lazy Mama Tia, stop being so pregnant, put your apron on, and get busy in the kitchen lady! And not just with breakfast, with every meal. Now that Charlie isn't eating pureed baby food anymore, I need to be cooking fresh meals every night, or at least most nights. Even if I'm not going to be the one eating it, I should be the one making it. That's where the plan seems to fall apart. Because I don't feel good, almost ever, and I won't be eating dinner tonight, I don't make anything at all, and the kids are forced to eat whatever Daddy can put together for them at the last minute. This is what I hate the very most about being pregnant. I lose my super mom powers, and turn into a couch slug. Well not this time, I say! (See I type that in all caps now, but check back with me tonight, and I'll probably be laying on the couch watching Greys Anatomy instead of baking a pasta dish)

Luckily, this morning when I woke up, I was feeling great. No morning sickness. Charlie was in his bedroom, rolling around with his Lovey in his crib, repeating "eat eat eat eat eat eat", and then I remembered the apple cinnamon oatmeal from the store last night. I swooped him up, set him down in his highchair with some dry rice chex to snack on (they're now on the floor, by the way, they're perfect for playing the gravity game), and I started working on some oatmeal. I took a whole apple, blended it with a splash of water in the vita mix, until it was a raw sauce, and then combined it with 1/4 cup dry gluten free oats (Bob's Red Mill), added half a cup of water, a sprinkle of cinnamon and brown sugar, and let it simmer. This isn't anything that I'd be eating, I can't have brown sugar or cooked apple, but I knew the kids would appreciate it. Once it had thickened up and looked ready to eat, I scooped a little bit into a magic bullet cup, twisted on the blade, and flipped it over to give it a good shake, so that all of the oatmeal would slide down to the bottom of the container for blending.

I didn't expect that the dang cup would explode!

The blade somehow popped off of the end of the cup, and hot apple cinnamon oatmeal went everywhere.

Charlie started crying.

"No baby, its ok, see, Mommy fixes it. Yummm yummm, its almost ready, see, I fix it", I tell him, while frantically trying to scoop oatmeal off of every surface that looks clean enough to eat off of. The mess is overwhelming, but I tell myself that I'll come back to it later. Right now, I just need to focus on blending the oatmeal and getting it into the tummy of the "eat eat eat eat eat" broken record baby.

He loves it. Thanks goodness.

Eleanore wakes up, comes down the stairs, and she loves hers too. Great.

So then I go to clean up the mess. Its on the bullet base, its on the counter top, its on the window, the window sill, in the baby supply basket containing thermometers and pacifiers, on my breast pumps (which haven't been used in 6 days now, I'm very uncomfortable), on the clean dishes that are drying on the counter... I can't see a square inch of counter space that its not covering. I suck it up, and start cleaning. And while I'm cleaning that, I might as well do all of the dishes that are in the sink, right?

A few dishes into my oatmeal recovery project, I pull out a big bowl, full of a gooey battery like substance. What the heck is this, I wonder. And then it all becomes so clear...

...Are you serious?

Christopher had made pancakes.

He made pancakes for himself (and probably us, but right now I'm frusterated, so as far as I'm concerned, it must have been for himself and himself only) in the morning, failed to tell me, and then put the leftovers in the fridge. How was I supposed to know that he made pancakes?! There was no griddle on the counter to give it away, no friendly note taped anywhere in sight. I went through all of the hassle of being super-mom-who-makes-cinnamon-apple-oatmeal-from-scratch, for nothing, because there were pancakes already made in the fridge!!

*heavy sigh*

I think I'm going to throw the magic bullet away. That thing is a piece of crap anyways (this is actually the 2nd one we've gone through). We only keep it around for convenients sake. The Vita Mix is a bazillion times better (and for $600 dollars, it had better be, right?), but sometimes its just a little too heavy duty for a small task such as blending a bowl full of baby food.

So what if there were pancakes in the fridge. I still got up, and I made my kids a healthy breakfast from scratch, the way a super mom should, even though I'm feeling less than energized and wanting nothing more than to curl up on the couch and nap while they feed themselves cereal off the floor.

I'm proud of my oatmeal explosion, and the happy tummys that went along with it.