My Old Lady

Today is Mo's birthday. She is, while aging, less old than I. And it shows! Happy birthday, Mo. I will try to avoid succumbing to the warm and fuzzies here as I describe the day we had today, which was excellent. In an effort to do so I remember yesterday. Yesterday was... not so good. Between the 2 sick kids who were unable, or unwilling, to sleep, and us (we were not taking things well) it made for a rather long and unpleasant Saturday. That said, we went out last night to some sniffy lounge - our first outing without the kids since July - and lo, it was good.

As I type this (and I mean it, as opposed to my last post) she and A are asleep on the bed, she from the fatigue of spending the weekend with three children, and he in a milk coma. I know I should put him to bed but I don't want to disturb the picture they make. Plus, he is heavy, and I am weak. Mo is so tired she hasn't gotten up to take the computer from me even though I am listening to Drums & Wires at the end of the bed. Very tired.

The purpose of this post is not to refer to the bling I got her for her birthday (there being none) nor to the expensive clothing (because she is returning it). Well, I will refer to it backhandedly, but that's it, you literalist swine. The gift to which I refer is the day. Our heads full of fresh air, we dug into the dead fried bird dinner with no small amount of interest. We enjoyed (maybe that's the wrong terms) breakfast with my sister and two sets of grandparents and the kids were charming, engaged, hungry, not loud (except when E announced, over the din, she has pooped in the toilet, that was loud - and worth announcing, I suppose. I still do it.) After experiencing a period of a no-nap baby and an increasingly nap-resistant toddler (dad, I have to poo... so we go and we sit and we wait... ... for many a visit, there was no poo... just a sly expression, that is, until lately, where we go, and she kind of waits through a story or two, until I start to ask questions about the presence of activity in ass-land, whereupon a theatrical trailer of grunts precedes a less-theatrical trailer... so now I think she is command-crapping. If I only I had such self-control over any of my bodily functions.) we had both children asleep for a large block of the afternoon.

I was able to roast a chicken, its cavity plugged with fresh thyme and a large chunk of lemon, its exterior smeared with table seasonings and olive oil (note to self: learn fancy cooking words to go in lieu of 'plugged' and 'smeared') and some yam fries, boil some carrots, and then roast button mushrooms in the chicken jus before doing something vaguely productive in the house. After E's pre-dinner meal we went out to the yard and cut the guts out of a peck of pumpkins, E taking the seeds, in batches of 2, to the compost (which is as endearing as it is inefficient). It was sunny, fresh, the autumn wind biting our skin. After that E hosted a party for the disemboweled squash (which will make the society pages, no soubt) while I served the grub. We then enjoyed our dinner, our evening, and now to sleep.

Happy birthday, Mo.

P-man.