the cat goes away…so they all puree?
Away I went. Really. All by myself on a handful of airplanes and trains and cars to land at my high school reunion. Who me, worry? Not a chance, for back in the real world I had grandma and grandpa settled in to help Dave with the girls. I am told that all went well. Sure there is some underlying chatter about a glass platter that is no more; and yes, we do have a brand new microwave though no one will confirm nor deny the occurrence or lack thereof of an explosion or not in our previous microwave. But really, all is well and good.
The children are in one piece. Acadia, bless her little heart, was kind enough to wait for my return before falling out of a tree (minor scratches only, miraculously.) The kids are so ecstatic to have Mommy home again that they have totally forgotten that I am the same monster that notoriously turns down candy requests and demands unreasonably early bedtime rituals. I’m riding this wave of popularity as long as I can.
Of course, when you are the lucky recipient of free childcare it goes without saying that things will be done a little differently. And of course I wanted nothing more than for my parents to settle in, in a mi casa es su casa kind of way. And I for one am fine with a weekend full of ice cream for breakfast and 127 trips to the pool. That’s what grandparents are for.
That, and pureed squash. Surely this has happened to you? You return home to find a freezer chock full of unmarked fluorescent orange baggies?
No? Suddenly we’re not on the same page anymore? I’m telling you, retirement changes people.
The story goes that my parents were accosted by a “greenish pumpkiny looking thing” at the market. Really, what else could they do? Mommy-rules fly out the window faster than a greased cat through a keyhole, but my story about putting up enough food for the winter? That they took to heart.
And so I return, exhausted from a wonderful weekend of pretending that absolutely no time has past since the glory days of 1988. I didn’t have to worry about my children. And I certainly don’t have to worry about running out of squash.
I wonder if I can interest anyone in soup?