Sage advice from my mama via Facebook:
“Stay away from Walmart this weekend. Everyone that can walk, ride or crawl is there. You would think the end of the world was coming not the 4 of July.”
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Before I began teaching, I worked as an IT assistant in a meeting planning office. Periodically, my boss would come to me and ask “How hard would it be (to have the moon and the stars in a Fed Ex box by five for pick up and delivered by 10:00 AM tomorrow morning)?” Okay – so she never asked for the moon and the stars…together anyway.
Often I could complete whatever task she brought to me and I often surprised myself at what I accomplished.
So now, in that same spirit, I think crazy things like I should be able to fix my own dryer, change my own oil, edit my blog’s theme, and make homemade baby food. Notice I said “think” and “should” rather than more active verbs like “can” and “do.”
With the exception of homemade baby food.
Night after night, I spoon liquid vegetables into Adam’s mouth. Looking at the label, the ingredients seem simple enough: macaroni, tomatoes, carrots, peas, water, etc. Easy, easy.
There is no shortage of labor intensive things we will do for those little ones whom we love. I boiled carrots and macaroni. I blanched a small tomato and actually skinned it.
If Ismael came to me and asked me to start removing the skin from his tomatoes, I think I might actually tell him to go take a long, long walk, somewhere else… in a sweet voice of course, but there isn’t any way on earth I would do it.
I added what seemed like a small amount of spinach to the mixture then dumped it all in my food processor with some water. The result seemed relatively smooth, but not quite the puree I expected. I put it on his plate along with a jar of baby fruit (one thing at a time, one thing at a time).
I thought it tasted as well as it could with no salt, onions, or garlic. It seemed really GREEN for the small amount of spinach I used.
Ismael gave it the hairy eyeball trying to figure out just what I was up to. He seemed surprised, impressed and concerned all at once, looking at me like we had just met. He forgets that I have a LOT more nutty ideas energy once school is out.
Adam was not impressed. He was surprised and concerned though. It was not a hit.
He is looking at Daddy for rescue! With every bite it seemed like he was asking, “Seriously? Do I have to eat this?” Eventually he just clamped his mouth shut and absolutely refused to take another bite.
So in retrospect, I can see a few mistakes I can rectify in the future:
- Definitely use the blender rather than food processor to get a smoother, more familiar texture. By the time I tried this tonight, it was toooo late. He was not going to have another bite of it no matter what I did.
- Less is more when it comes to spinach.
I’ll wait a few days and try again with a new “blend.” I didn’t buy an entire bag of ORGANIC carrots for nothing, I assure you.
I have a tendency to play an event out in my mind before it happens, in preparation, I suppose.
These little “pre”- creations tend to consider the worst possible sequence of events and how I might handle them.
I am an incurable optimist.
My biggest fear about Adam’s baptism was that he would vomit neon orange carrots all over his priceless baptismal outfit. Seriously, JC Penny? Fifty bucks for something he will wear once??
My second fear was that he would continue his new habit of groaning through the entire thing, which would make the priest consider an exorcism rather than a baptism.
I could not have foreseen the two, rather minor, problems that did arise: sandals and chrism.
After having tan and white food all Sunday morning (I’m learning to match his foods to his clothing), I dressed Adam in a shorts outfit and sandals. During mass, I knelt down to pray as holy a prayer as I could muster while Adam kicked me repeatedly in the butt.
He managed to flip one of his sandals into the air and hit himself in the head with it.
His startled cry was soon replaced with an honest wailing. The thunk on the head must have reminded him that he needed a V8….totally out of the question because it didn’t match his clothing.
After a quick trip to the gathering space where he downed an entire 8 ounces of formula, I wrestled him into his little suit. I would like to personally thank the genius who thought placing buttons on the BACK of the long sleeved shirt was a good idea. It was like wrestling a spider monkey on speed into a straight jacket.
He sure was cute though.
The service went fine with Father Kevin motoring through the required readings so fast that most of our guests couldn’t understand him. The stole was placed, the candle lit, the water poured, and the chrism applied in record time.
The chrism. According to the Catholic Encyclopedia chrism is olive oil mixed with balsam which gives it a “sweet fragrance.”
It flat out stinks. It’s a sharp, sinus piercing, sit up and take notice kind of stink. And Father Kevin smeared Adam’s head with a huge handful of the stuff. It was practically dripping off of his teeny tiny little bangs.
My previously placid son, in trying to located the source of the stink, began nodding his head vigorously. Against my face. Now I had chrism all over my nose, upper lip, and chin.
It’s like taking the worst smelling substance possible and cramming it in your own nostrils.
Trying to be cool about it, since Father Kevin was racing through the last few prayers, I wiped my nose and lip carefully. Apparently chrism has the magical powers of melting lipstick, because I had a nice rose colored streak on the back of my hand.
I would like to say I prayed for my son and a grace filled life.
Instead I panicked that lipstick might be either smeared across my cheek or dripping down my chin.
It’s my optimist streak at work again.
According to the “after” pictures, it seems that my panicking was for naught.
Ismael was fairly silent through this whole process. These are not his traditions, not his ways, yet he knew it was important to me. He was present, attentive, and supportive, if not a little uncomfortable. Ahh..the things we do for those we love.
Except tolerate chrism.
As we left the church, he held Adam high in the air and declared, “Boy! You need a bath! You STINK!” To which the boy nodded vigorously in assent.
