Waltz In Exile

15 July 2008, 12:06 am
Filed under: Goats, Human Rights, Nanny, P2, P3, Working Mom | Tags: , , ,

Monday number two with the nanny IN. DA. HOUSE…!  I didn’t get off as easy as last week, though.  Why, you ask?  (Or maybe you don’t.  Fine.  Go read something else then.  Where was I? Oh, yes.)  I didn’t get out of the house before the goats awoke. Partly because one of them, impossible little goat that she is, was up sort of late last night (given the state of the curly red mop on her head, it makes me wonder if she’s been up late practicing “It’s the Hard-Knock Life” with the other orphans. [Seriously, if the camera batteries were recharged, you would understand what I’m talking about.  Maybe tomorrow.  ANYway –])

Long after I thought she was asleep, P3 took me by surprise by coming into the office in tears. Big sobby, dramatic tears. About how no one would BE with her, no one would TALK to her. “E’ry-buh-buh-body be-ee-ee-ee suh-uh-uh-um-wuh-wuh-air el-el-EL-SUH!” 

I tried taking her back to her room, singing her a song and rubbing her back; no go. She just wouldn’t stop crying.  So I picked her back up and said “it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay” and carried her to our room (just like someone who’s never seen a single episode of SuperNanny.)  I laid her on the bed next to PA and said “How about if you lie here with Daddy for a little bit?”

She stopped pressing her trembly little lips together and opened her mouth, and I thought for sure there was going to be another round of sobbing about how it huh-huh-HAD to be muh-muh-ME.  Instead, she giggled.  “Teeheehee.”  Eyes impossibly dry, big grin on her face.   And again, the “teeheehee.”

I couldn’t believe it.  I pointed at her and said in my best imitation of a stern voice (I was trying really hard not to laugh out loud): “Are those crocodile tears…?”

And my sweet sweet girl, who must have thought I was pointing at her nose, said, “No, Mama.  They’re boogies.”

Apparently, I am the straight man in my daughter’s routine.  I think sidekick was better than this.
So this morning, no clean escape for me. The worst part was, I got sucked into a world-class meltdown when P2 discovered that P3 had the (heretofore-uncontested) yellow cereal bowl. And his was….(dunt-dunt-DUNNNNNN!) white. And he couldn’t possibly eat his breakfast out of that wretched, colorless vessel. And instead of maintaining my cool and either: a) exiting and letting the goat nanny sort it out, or 2) calmly telling him that his cereal would be on the counter, in the horrible awful snow-white bowl, when he was ready, I completely lost it.

Downside: went to work feeling like worst mother in world. Upside (and for this, I’m well aware that I’m forfeiting my Mother of the Year plaque [and very possibly going to hell]): he’s probably not asking me for breakfast in the morning. (See what I mean?)
Lastly, a non-goat issue. I would like to start a grassroots movement to do away with that scourge of all fruit trays, the honeydew melon. Who eats this? That’s right –NO ONE.  I don’t understand it.  It’s like a conspiracy by the buffet industry or something.

I genuinely fear that someone is pressuring food-service professionals to put it on fresh fruit trays (or worse, in mixed-fruit offerings.)  People go through the line and what happens? If it’s separated fruit, they just leave it there until a desperate vegan comes through and seriously considers the beef and chicken and then sighs and recommits to the whole vegan thing and scoops it onto their plate.

If it’s the mixed-fruit, though, then people end up with it when they’re dishing up the fruit (in the name of expediency, because can you imagine, in this “Life takes VISA” dictated universe, if someone dared to only spoon up the fruit they wanted and held up the line? Chaos! Mayhem! Anyway –) so then, of course, it gets left on the plates and tossed….but who cares, right? It was paid for.  And someone, somewhere, saved a lot of money not buying yummy fruit that people actually eat.  Maybe even kickbacks to the strawberry farmers.

So for the love of all that’s holy, would someone please tell the melon farmers to just stop already? I don’t know who the honeydew lobby is, but they are some seriously powerful people. We’re going to have to work together to be the change we want to see in the buffet line, is all I’m saying. (Yes, I’m aware I just likened my anti-honeydew struggle to international human rights violations.)

Unless…. perhaps there’s some sort of redemption possible for this stupid waste of food/agricultural lands? Tell you what — leave your ideas in the comments if you can think of some other use for the hundreds of pounds of buffet-line mixed-fruit honeydew that is being tossed EVERY SINGLE DAY just by the wedding industry in this country. And if you can’t think of anything, that’s okay, too. Just sign your (Viking) name and I’ll add you to my grassroots membership list.


2 Comments so far
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Ripe honeydew is actually not too bad, unfortunately they pick them before they are ready and they end up tasting like green cardboard. It is so rare to get a ripe honeydew I barely remember what it actually tastes like. Being raised not to waste I eat the green cardboard anyway. They tend to do the same with cantaloupe too, ripe cantaloupe is so very very yummy, it is so depressing when I eat the orange cardboard version!

Milkwest the Procrastinator (hahaha)

Perhaps I have just not ever had a good one. But I don’t really think that’s it.

Comment by Karen

[…] Petition In which I detail my lack of motherhood skillz, and also malign the honeydew. […]

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