The Creamiest Mashed Potatoes I Never Tasted
So Thanksgiving is over. Is it wrong that I heaved a sigh of relief at going back to work today? My parents and sister visited and it was nice to see them and have a hand with Squidge, but at the same time it is hard for me to unclench and let other people take over. When he goes to the sitter, I know that it’s out of my hands. I trust that they’re comfortable with each other and she’ll follow his routines and schedule. When I’m floating around the edges, I can’t just butt out.
I didn’t really want anyone else feeding him because 1. I am still a psycho about his intake and it’s been going so well I didn’t want to screw it up by distracting him with new people feeding him and 2. I was switching him to fast flow nipples and wanted to keep an eye on how it was going.
I tried to sleep in, but my body clock is shot and I ended up getting up pretty much when he did even though Miguel and my dad were up with him, because I’d lay there thinking I needed to give him his reflux medicine, and start his series of stretches for the day, and make sure he got a good amount of tummy time, and was back down for his nap by about 8 so he’d stay on schedule for eating and napping the rest of the day, and make sure he was being challenged to keep his head up straight in the midline and not resting his flat spot on anything and oh my god were they letting him watch more tv?
And then Thanksgiving Thursday was just…God love my parents, but everything has got to be such a big g.d. production centered around cooking and eating. It is one of the things I used to enjoy about their visits, but now that we’ve got Squidge it is just too much. Squidge shorted his afternoon nap, and then I was busy running around trying to get dinner on the table so he missed the late afternoon snooze I normally let him take on me. I had hoped to get dinner on the table between 5:30 and 6-preferably closer to 5:30 in the hopes that Squidge could get his normal chill time in front of baby Einstein (yes, I let him watch a half hour every night while I eat dinner, make bottles, etc., reason 562 why I am not going to get mother of the year) while we ate.
But even though I was clear about this timeline, my parents as usual way underestimated cooking and prep time. Instead of just mashing the fuckers the old fashioned way, my mother wanted to put the potatoes through the ricer so that they would be all smooth and creamy. Do you know how long it takes to rice 6 big russet potatoes? A long ass time.
It was well after 6 by the time we sat down and Squidge was having none of baby Einstein. I tried soothing him to sleep but he’d pop awake the second I put him down. He just was so tired and pissed off he didn’t even know what to do with himself. By this time, my dad was done eating and offered to take him while I ate. But I was so wound up and listening to Squidge scream and fuss has never been very conducive to eating blissfully and what little I ate just tasted like sawdust.
Luckily, we kept the rest of the week meals to picking at leftovers and everyone just helped themselves when they were hungry. Friday at lunch, I was able to make myself a nice plate of leftovers and have my Thanksgiving dinner a day late.