Rhen and I enjoying a rainy morning. I probably smiled at some point in this photo, but it’s a lot going on at once. Also the wonders of the “retouch” button in iPhoto removed a honking red zit on my sweaty forehead. Rhen–perfect.
It all started when we went over to Kendall’s for a homemade KFC dinner party. Now, I love KFC and make no apologies for it. I ate a bunch and drink two whole beers. The beer was French and I felt like if I had one more I would become interesting.
Now, I don’t drink all that much anymore because it doesn’t really jive with the whole parenting an infant lifestyle so my tolerance is like, nil. Normally everyone holds at the two drink line at Kendall’s parties, but noooooo, tonight everyone is knocking them back. Soon they have a bottle of Wisconsin wine out. To me it looks like, um, white wine? Sure, Pinot Grigio? Hell no, it’s called Prairie Fume’. Go figure. I find out that smaller wineries don’t call their wines the same thing that other wineries do. It’s unique.
So, C. and I conferenced in the living room away from the host and guests and decided it was time to split. We announced to everyone we we’re leaving and Kendall, being the great hostess that she is, asked if we would like to take home the KFC. Without any hesitation or guest-like politeness I said, “Sure, we would love to have it.” Thank God the other guests said they couldn’t because they were going out of town the next day. I was relieved because there was no way in Hell I was leaving without the Colonel’s Secret Recipe. I’m also thankful no one was watching me closely when she offered, because my disappointment was written all over my face. I figure, what the hell, I’ve known her longer than you guys. I get the damn chicken. And the mashed potatoes, the biscuits, the macaroni and cheese, the beans and the big damn bucket of chicken! So, I throw all these red and white containers in my fridge mindful that I have snacks for days on end. Very important for the SAHD in me. Must eat, can’t cook. Change diaper.
The next few days are a KFC binge-blur. I’m in a crisis. I can’t stop the constant snacking on chicken wings, thighs and meaty breasts. Of course I’m licking my fingers like crazy. I hit the mashed potatoes in the afternoon and before I go to work Tuesday night I heat up the biscuits which carries me beautifully through a rugged five hour shift of hard labor. The next morning I finish off the last breast and I am officially out of KFC. Damn, Kendall?
KFC has totally stoked my appetite. Today I took Rhen out to my parents’ house and ate leftover pot roast and four cheese hot dogs. I know. I’m sick. Did I just say cheese hotdogs? After all of that, we went grocery shopping. I should be passed out on the floor, dying of cheese hotdog sickness. We come back with a bunch of fruit. As I was dutifully trimming the bushes outside C. cut up the musk mellon we bought. Now, in my defense I was hot and thirsty when I descended upon the bowl of musk mellon. It took me about five minutes to eat it. I’m a little scared because I’m not sure what this will do to me tomorrow morning after coffee. Of course, there was the bowl of grapes which I just about finished off too. I’m a little sweaty right now and think I need something to balance off the fruit feed. What I want now is a cup of coffee. I can almost taste it.
Rhen has been teething overtime the last couple of days so, not much time to post. I can feel just the tip of a tooth coming out on the bottom right. He does this super cute thing with his jaw where he stick it out a little. It is very subtle. C. and I have theorized that he is trying to get a little air on it to relieve the pain or he just discovered he can do that now. Anyway, my nephew Drew left his finger puppet (pictured above) at our house Saturday. I’m not sure how long it will stay here. So Drew, if you’re reading this post (I doubt) don’t worry bud, we’ll keep your booger finger puppet safe.
C. and I took Rhen for his first trip to IKEA and a visit to his Auntie Paula and Uncle Terry. Going up wasn’t so bad. We stopped outside of the Twin Cities at a Target parking lot so Rhen could get out and chill, perhaps eat, but the nursing in the car thing isn’t working anymore, so we just settled for chilling and watching the cars race by on the freeway.
He did super at IKEA. I Bjorned him for awhile and picked up necessities such as a big fluorescent green snake, a green ladybug wall light, and a green mesh storage tower for Rhen. I suppose I could go through the whole list but it would turn this post into one huge paragraph. I’m happy to report that we did get out of the store under one hundred bucks. Pretty good haul too.
It was nice for Rhen to see his aunt and uncle. Paula gave me a couple neat t-shirts. Terry was very kind and brought us out a big bowl of sliced assorted melons when we arrived. Surprisingly refreshing. It always hits the spot.
The way back was for the most part uneventful. Around Lake City Rhen got hungry, badly. C. was already riding in back with him, so after many attempts to settle him down C. just did “the needful” and brought Rhen dinner on the go (Rhen never left his car seat, it was sort of a leaning over maneuver on C.’s part). After that, he slept the entire way home. Such a sweet boy.
Good to be home and looking forward to the week!
Topic? Rhen, of course. Click right here.
I feel like I’ve been unfair to Rhen the last couple of days. He sits on my lap (with the help of the Bjorn) like a good little monkey as I post. An email from Rachel asked the question if we were going a little stir-crazy. She’s right. I totally denied the same question from my mother-in-law a week ago, because I’m a young, new parent with unlimited enthusiasm and energy! Ha ha. Me crazy? Nope. I love isolation! So, thanks Rachel, it was sort of a wake up call. So the message is–it’s alright to cry. Even grown men do it (remember that song?).
So, getting back to Rhen. He’s such a sweet and intelligent boy. He coos and smiles and loves to stand up (on your pins!) with help. He fusses but it rarely lasts long. There is nothing that the Baby Bjorn, iPod and our sweet dance moves can’t cure. I think that Rhen will be a great dancer when he grows up. God knows we shake it a lot around here. Not afraid to move his hips. He takes a bottle really well and belches fantastically when he’s done eating. He’s regular–for the most part (I mean, everyone goes off schedule from time to time). Gas? Sure, who doesn’t have gas? Show me a baby that doesn’t have gas and I’ll show you a Minnesotan that doesn’t talk about the weather. It’s the natural way of things.
Anyways, the point of this post is that Rhen is such a good boy. Like I said, looking back at my posts, I see a pattern of general bitchiness. I think it’s understandable, but I just wanted to take time to qualify it. Rhen is such a joy. He’s our guy. Our little Mac. We love him so much.
Rhen doing his best to pull an all-nighter with Dad. We are only beginning. This is a part of his new bedtime routine, you know, the part where he doesn’t sleep. I just keep telling myself that despite his small size, he is growing everyday and everyday is a step closer to the State of
Song playing now: Wise up by Aimee Mann from the Magnolia OST.