Credit Where Credit Is Due

Before we commence with our regularly scheduled programming today, please go read this post and take your moment of reflection for Memorial Day. You back? Okay, on with the show . . .

I must tell you, my friends, that Cubby? STELLAR traveler. He probably whined less than I did during all the flying and switching planes and running around hither and yon in New Orleans.

Of course, he was being carried or pushed in his chariot all the time, as well as being fed on demand, so what did the kid have to cry about, right?

For real, though, the child exceeded all my expectations for good behavior. My expectations actually included the foregone conclusion that he would scream the whole time we were on the planes, as well as fuss day and night the entire trip because we were away from home. But apparently, I'm the only one who fusses when away from home.

He seemed to like the chaos and noise of the airports, adrenaline junkie that he is. He slept most of our in-air time, and when he wasn't sleeping, he was cooing and playing. Or rather, watching while I played with toys on his behalf. There were a few shrieking episodes, mostly when I wasn't getting him to his milk supply fast enough (he didn't care that I was wedged into a minuscule airplane seat as well as trying to cover myself with a blanket so as to preserve my modesty). But overall, two big thumbs up.

He slept pretty well the whole trip. I woke up a lot to listen and make sure HE wasn't waking up, but that was my problem. He smiled and cooed and played nicely with all the new people who wanted to hold him. He mostly cried when we were inside air conditioned places--which is EVERYWHERE in New Orleans. But bring the child outside into the sticky heat and he was oh so happy. I, on the other hand, was a sweaty mess the entire time, but as long as Cubby was content, what did that matter? My mother, who may be the person genetically responsible for Cubby's love of disgusting heat, took many a lap around the hotel with the little dictator in his chariot, bless her heat-loving heart.

And then, when we got home, he actually slept the ENTIRE NIGHT. Which meant that I slept from 9:30 p.m. until 5:30 a.m. And good LORD, did I need that. He must love his mother after all.

I'm not saying I'm raring to go anywhere far away with Cubby anytime soon, but I have to give him props for just going with the frantic flow around him the whole trip. So thanks, Cubby. You're aces, kid.

Priorities

You know how there are certain things you always do first when you get home from a trip? Well, for me, that's looking at the garden.

Okay, so it wasn't actually first. First I extracted a screaming child from the backseat of the car and changed him and fed him. Then I petted the dogs. Then we went to a family member's birthday party on the lakeshore. Then I came home, changed the again screaming child (it was a long day), fed him again, and put him to bed. And THEN I went to look at the garden.

The garden exploded in the four days we were gone. Weeds EVERYWHERE, but also blooming pea plants, potato plants that are all of the sudden a foot tall and rapidly approaching the first hilling (BOOO), carrots and beets that grew three inches and need to be thinned, surprisingly large lettuce and spinach and basil and tomatoes.

That's right. The tomatoes have lived to die another day. I know you were worried about the tomatoes. I certainly was. I think they'll all make it, although I don't know how much this little, ahem, episode will set them back. We shall see. I'm just glad they weren't all dead when I got home. Not dead is pretty much all I ask for.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I have many loads of laundry to do and dogs to pet. It's so nice to be home.

Let's Talk

Things we won't talk about:

1) Nursing on a plane. Let's just say: SO NOT FUN.

2) Changing diapers on a plane. See: SO NOT FUN.

3) Changing an entire baby outfit on a plane because of the above-mentioned diaper change and GOOD LORD CHILD, what have you been eating?!

4) Budget car rental. Who said, when I called to check, that sure they have car seats! We've never run out of car seats! There will be a car seat waiting when you arrive!

There were no car seats. They don't even HAVE infant car seats. And so Enterprise wins this particular customer's loyalty.

Things we will talk about:

1) Enterprise. How I love thee and your helpful staff and infant car seats, amen.

2) The Residence Inn Marriott. Free breakfast, and not a shitty "continental breakfast" either. PLUS a free dinner buffett WITH free beer and wine! We may live here forever.

3) Hotels in general. Blessed air conditioning. And hot water. And cleaning fairies that whisk away all messes. I love you, cleaning fairies. Will you come home with me?

4) Seeing my family and introducing them to Cubby. Grandpa in particular is a BIG hit.

5) Disposable diapers. I still feel vaguely guilty using them for the trip and just throwing them away, but OH MY GOD, the lure of convenience, it is strong.

Practice Run

Okay, Cubby. We're leaving this morning for New Orleans. You're going to be meeting all of your relatives from my family for the first time, and you have until Saturday to charm them. You want to make a good impression, don't you? Of course you do! So let's practice that big smile.

Don't give me that look, young man. When I say smile, you smile.

That's better. I'm glad you've adjusted your attitude. Now let's see a little more happiness . . .

Now THAT'S what I'm talkin' about.

Get ready, New Orleans. Cubby is a comin'.

File This Under "Stupid Things I Have Done"

It's a big file. And its most recent entry is mulching my precious tomato seedlings with the urine-soaked straw from the sheep barn.

Not that this is inherently bad. In fact, it's supposed to be good. So say all the experts. So I finally decided to sack up this year and haul wheelbarrows of sheep-soiled straw to mulch the tomatoes. So virtuous of me! Such a disgusting chore! So relieved when it was done!

However.

I dug down too far, into the really ammonia-heavy muck in the bottom layers of straw. The result? Some of my seedlings got burned, meaning the leaves are all grayish and brittle.

STUPIDSTUPIDSTUPID.

There are HOURS of work in those seedlings, and now it could all be wasted. It's not certain that the plants will die; the stems aren't wilting or anything, and most of them have some small new-growth green leaves on them that I'm hoping will bring the plants back to life. And I do have a few extra seedlings that aren't planted yet, so I can replace some.

BUT STILL. STUPIDSTUPIDSTUPID.

It's a Sickness

I can't stop taking pictures of Cubby with every flower on the property when it blooms.

But really, why should I?

Cleansed

It was at least 80 degrees yesterday, humid and sunny. After preparing the ground for and planting another dozen tomato plants, half a dozen basil plants, and four jalapeno plants, and then stacking a truckload of firewood that A. had cut and split, plus cleaning the ashes out the woodstove and hauling them to the burn pile along with a couple of wheelbarrow loads of trimmings from the bushes by the front porch . . . I was beyond sweaty. I was totally, absolutely, and without a doubt disgusting. Unfit for polite company.

And so OF COURSE A.'s friend joined us for dinner. I don't think I contributed much to the appetizing atmosphere of the meal. Gross.

ANYWAY.

I finally got to bathe at 8 p.m., after Cubby went to bed. And OH MY GOD, the sweet relief of not being sticky and smelly anymore.

Heaven is a shower after a long day of hot labor.