Weekend Vignettes

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Saturday, approx. 5pm, my bathroom

I'm rushing around frantically trying to get dressed, put makeup on (!), and fix my hair. Hayden, meantime, has chosen this of all times for a meltdown. The vast assortment of toys, both parent-approved and Hayden-selected (my hairbrush, deodorant, and a bracelet) is doing nothing to settle her down. In a last ditch effort, I grab a box of tampons from under the counter. Seconds later, a cascade of them shower my bathroom floor. Then, wait... What is that sound?! Silence!!! Playing 52-tampon pickup is a small price to pay for 5 uniterrupted minutes for getting ready when you're already desperately late. Thanks, Playtex.

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Later that evening, at the work Christmas party, just after we've eaten dinner

One of the execs my hubby and I are chatting with subtly and quietly mentions, "Bon, you've got a litte bird in your grill there, I thought I'd let you know." Chris, hearing this, chimes in, "Oh yeah! I meant to say something about that!" Crap, I thought, perfect time to get chicken stuck in my teeth! I turn away and start trying to dislodge the offending fowl and upon realizing what I'm doing, my coworker clarifies, "Oh, no, Bon. I meant you have a bird that got stuck in the grill of your car!" It's then that I remember the small feathered creature that dove in front of our car on the way to the party. I'm not sure what's worse - walking around a party with food stuck in your teeth, or showing up to such an elegant event with a dirty car (full of baby gear, might I add, and who knows what else) adorned with a dead bird. And parking up front by the door. Lovely.

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Sunday Morning, around 8:30am

Chris awakes to hear a small voice calling. For him. "Da.... Da! Dahh Dahhh! Da da da da dah dah da!" Hayden, who has been saying "Da-da" for a week or so now on the rare occasion, wanted to make sure he knew who she was looking at! She wanted her Da-da to come get her out of bed. Despite wanting to roll over and go back to sleep, he got up and got his little buddy.

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Later that afternoon

We sold the oven! YAY! Going, going, GONE! Finite! No More. Done! Then we decided to 'celebrate' by getting the remaining few items out of our storage building and finishing our move. If I haven't mentioned before, Chris and I don't move stuff well together. That's why we built the house, in fact. So we will never have to move again. Our marriage is pretty strong, but another buffet that weighs as much as the one in our living room, and we might not make it. For as similar as we are in values, goals, tastes, etc, that is one area that we are WAY different. If I see that it makes sense to pick something up, turn it on it's side and carry it in the house, Chris sees that we should flip it over, pick it up, start moving it while one of us only has one hand on it, and see if we can't mash the other hand a few times before we set it down. See? We just look at stuff differently. It's not that one of us is right (me) and the other is wrong (him), it's just that we have our own approaches (me, careful planning and assessment. Him, run headlong at it with our eyes closed) to things like this. And that's okay, so long as we don't have to work together much. Happily, we seem to have worked out a little system that helps us both get through these situations without too many hurt feelings or fingers. It involves a good amount of name calling, cursing, obscene gesturing, and a few hugs and kisses (and hair-pulling and arm-pinching). Hey, it works for us. :)

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Later that night

Hayden is sitting on her Grandma's lap, and they are looking through the weekly circulars from the local drugstore that have become Hayden's favorite 'books.' Grandma points out the different pictures to Hayden, "See the little boy on the swing? He's having fun!" "See the little cat, it's giving that doggie a kiss, isn't it?" As she read that last one, Hayden looked up at her and becan blowing kisses. It still amazes me that at less than a year old her comprehension is so well-honed that she understood what Grandma was saying to her! Genius baby, I tell ya!

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