As you probably all know, the Millers co-sleep. It's arrangement that almost always delights and occasionally frustrates. (You know, much like parenting in general). Audrey spends most of her sleeping time either by taking up the entire bed or nursing. Whatever gets you through night, kids. However, this post is not about the magic of co-sleeping. This post is about THIS MORNING.
This morning I nursed Audrey while I rested in a dreamy stupor. Instead of drifting back to sleep as she usually does, Audrey suddenly sat up, coughed like thirty year veteran of the coal mines, and proceeded to vomit all over me. It was magnificent and thorough. By the time she was finished, she was giggling and ready to play. Whatever needed to leave had clearly exited the building. And Audrey, clever girl that she is, managed to not get a drop of vomit on herself, aiming it all towards her sputtering and now wide-awake mother.
The morning continued in the same vein. I stumbled towards the kitchen, putting together a quick breakfast of tea and oatmeal. Audrey and I watched cartoons while I waited for the oatmeal to boil. But it turns out I had turned on the wrong burner! Ha, ha! Hijinks, here we come! The alarming smell of burning steel seared through the living room and I ran into the kitchen to find my largest sauce pan burning in its own metallic juices, while my watery oatmeal sat on the burner next to it, cold as can be.
The offensive pan.
That's not vomit in my hair, that's oatmeal!
As I attempted to put out the shit storm, I came to three conclusions:
1. Clearly today is a pajama day. Getting dressed will only complicate what promises to already be a complicated day.
2. I can't handle expensive pots and pans. I've been thinking lately what with my awesome job and all I deserve some awesome cookware. My entire grown up existence I've shied away from such high-end goods, not because I don't think expensive stuff rocks, but because I break things, I burn dinner, I leave stuff at potlucks. I have an enviable collection of Fiestaware, but I have never bought china, believing that sturdy Fiestaware can take my manhandling, but delicate china cannot. And now, after destroying yet another pan (a cheapie, yet favorite), I have proved again to myself that I may fantasize about my kitchen wall hanging with glittery, copper pots (which would also give me an excuse to scream, "Chester Copperpot" about three dozen times a day), but alas, in reality such things are not for me.
3. Let us embrace who we are. Yesterday I purchased a new crock pot, which me and a couple of meaty pork chops will be inaugurating this afternoon. We are crock pot people in pajamas, dammit. Life is good.
There's pork chops in them veggies!