Tragic Sandwich

Tag: dinner

  • Your Own Oxygen Mask

    You know the maxim. Put your own mask on first.

    Often, though, that’s easier said than done. Because the other mask is needed so urgently, and so persistently, that it’s easy to forget that you even have one of your own, much less a need for it.

    So people say “Oh, you and Mr. Sandwich need time together. You need to MAKE time. It’s important.” And we know. But it’s also hard in ways that they don’t understand, because they are thinking of their own situation.

    When Baguette was a baby, family members could come over and take care of her for a few hours while we went to a movie or out to dinner. But after a very few years, that option no longer worked, for a variety of reasons. Sometimes her day care would have Friday evening babysitting. If she knew the teachers who were there that night, we’d plan to pick her up a couple of hours later than usual. She was with familiar people in a familiar setting–and she was already there, not getting dropped off–so it was comfortable for her.

    We learned that she was delighted to stay longer at day care, but only until 8 p.m. That’s when she would start to realize that she hadn’t seen us in a very long time, and would start to get sad. Sad was not our goal.

    So by the time we got home, and in the time before we needed to pick her up, it wasn’t really possible to see a movie. We generally would get takeout and watch things from the DVR. And that was fine, because it was time we were spending together as a couple. We don’t need to be in a restaurant or movie theater to do that.

    But over time, the teachers she knew weren’t the ones providing extended hours. One of her teachers left the day care for another position and therefore was able to come to our house to babysit–but she soon moved home to her family, who lived out of state.

    And then there was no one.

    This is common, by the way. Finding babysitters was a snap when I was a kid, but apparently tweens and teens aren’t babysitting in those numbers any more, and there definitely has been pressure on parents to be more selective.

    Finding a caregiver with experience with autistic children? We’re in a big city, and Care.com exists–but we’re easily talking $20 an hour, not counting dinner or the movie or whathaveyou. I don’t in any way think that’s unreasonable as a charge, but that’s a lot of money for an evening out. Plus, for Baguette to be comfortable with the person, we’d have to have them over at least weekly most of the time. It would add up fast.

    Add to that the fact that Baguette developed the loudest, most piercing case of separation anxiety known to humanity, and we just weren’t willing to ask someone to deal with that.

    But then there was “Hamilton.”

    Colonial and revolutionary America is my era. I’ve studied it formally and informally most of my life, since visiting Colonial Williamsburg when I was six. And I love Broadway musicals. So when “Hamilton” was in its D.C. tryouts and a promotional video was released, I was instantly hooked. Everything about the production was incredible; the music, the backstory, the creators, the performers, the social media genius of Lin-Manuel Miranda, the #Ham4Ham mini-performances for people trying to get tickets by lottery. I got the soundtrack and listened to it for months during my commute. Mr. Sandwich got me the Hamiltome for Christmas, and I read the entire thing in a day and a half.

    So here’s how this works. To get respite care–an aide in a day care program, or in your home–you have to be registered with the Regional Center. That process, with its forms and evaluations and assessments, takes more than half a year. We made it just in time for Baguette to get an aide to go with her to summer camp. And then when school started again, the director of the after-school program at her school refused to admit her. (This is a whole different post, and I don’t know if I want to write it at all, but I certainly don’t want to get into it right now.) We found ways to handle that, at great cost to ourselves (and mostly to Mr. Sandwich, who was the key player). We got another aide for summer. And then, at her new school, the after-school program was happy to admit her.

    Once we got Baguette used to staying at school after the last bell, we focused on in-home respite. We were able to get the two women who were providing her after-school care, so they were known quantities to her. We had them over and did not leave, to get her used to having them in the house. We left for short trips, to the drug store or to buy groceries. And then the day came for us to see “Hamilton.”

    Within 30 minutes of our departure, she had thrown her tablet across the room and shattered it.

    You know what? The show was worth it.

    Still, we went back to Square One. We stayed there for so many weekends that the aide told us to go out. We started, again, with short errands. And then the aide ghosted us, and we were back at Square One.

    We’ve been through several aides, but Baguette is more accustomed to the idea of being home with someone who isn’t us. We usually have one at-home session and then go out for the second.

    What this means is that we’ve had (nearly) weekly childcare for a year, and in that time we have been able to have lunch maybe half a dozen times.

    Two weeks ago, we went out for dinner for Mr. Sandwich’s birthday. It was the first time we’d gone to a restaurant, just the two of us, in five or six years.

    And last night we got to have dinner with friends. That? I don’t think we’ve done that since before Baguette was born.

    We went to an area pub with Bestie’s parents. We ate delicious, bad-for-you food. I drank this Smithwick’s.

    pint glass of Smithwick's ale
    It, too, was delicious.

    And you know what? We talked nonstop, but we didn’t talk about our kids the whole time.

    It was incredible. It was rare. I had such a good time.

  • Fine Dining at Bargain Prices

    You know that thing? The one where the people you love make your eyes roll extra hard?

    Yesterday afternoon, my father-in-law calls to ask if we want to join them for dinner. “It’s too hot to eat here,” he says, “So we can go out.”

    To Burger King.

    Because they have coupons.

    Mr. Sandwich’s family is made up entirely of fitness nuts. His dad will comment on someone’s BMI and speculate on their resultant health at the drop of a hat. He once told me that he likes to offer ice cream bars as dessert, because a guest is less likely to ask for seconds.

    At the same time, a coupon is a coupon. As Mr. Sandwich says, “My father has always had an appetite for a deal.”

    Since we in fact have nothing planned for dinner, we take Baguette to the pool and then head across town (Again, we have been invited across town. To Burger King.) I call to let them know we’re en route, and Mr. Sandwich’s mother is delighted. She calls to Mr. Sandwich’s father to get out from under the car, which he is fixing.

    Also, she hangs up just as I say, “We’ll meet you there.” So I call her back a few minutes later, and that turns out to be a good move, because she is startled that we are not coming by the house and then all driving over together.

    I do not want to get Baguette in and out of the car an additional time. We say we will meet them at Burger King, and she tells me the intersection and says, “It’s next to the Subway and across from the McDonald’s.”

    She also instructs me, “Don’t order until we get there. We have the coupons.”

    McDonald’s is about two miles from their house, and is where they get “Senior Coffee” after their morning run. (My in-laws are in their late 70s and win their age divisions in races, so of course they run to McDonald’s).

    McDonald’s is also home to the Big ‘n’ Tasty, which, as my father-in-law is fond of saying, is “just as good as In-n-Out.”

    NO. NO, IT IS NOT.

    We pull into the parking lot, and agree that while we may be waiting to order, we are not waiting to order for Baguette, who is the most likely of us to start screaming when she gets hungry. She screams, “Fash! Faaaaaash!” This means “hungry,” except for when it means something else, and I don’t know why either of those things is the case.

    So we order chicken nuggets, fries, and milk for Baguette, who in short order bumps her milk and spills it on her fries, but thankfully is not upset by this turn of events, possibly because there are chicken nuggets to be had.

    The woman at the counter says, “Is that all?” I answer, “We’re waiting for my in-laws” and think better of adding, “They have coupons!” because the woman at the counter seems very nice, and it’s not her fault that my in-laws are, um, extra quirky. So while I probably had a completely insane expression on my face, at least I didn’t say anything that went along with that.

    I feel even better about it when my in-laws arrive, and it turns out that they are regulars at this Burger King. Apparently there is more than one place to go for Senior Coffee, and they come here so often that the staff gives them gifts.

    Fortunately my father-in-law realizes that he cannot reasonably require us to confine our choices to the remaining unused coupons in his coupon book, and we order food that we suppose we’ll be okay with, because neither of us particularly likes Burger King, with or without coupons.

    And it was, just as we anticipated, totally mediocre. It wasn’t bad–although I didn’t feel good afterward–it was just meh.

    But it did remind me that I never wrote the final post about my Cheeseburger Challenge. So let me just skip to the end: Burger King has an edible small cheeseburger. Del Taco, a late entrant, turns out to do reasonably well (although theirs is priced a little higher). The winner, such as it is–and just as I thought it would be–is Wendy’s.

    Based on how icky I felt after last night’s meal, though (and not just last night’s, but the last several fast-food meals), I think my next fast-food adventures will focus on a Salad Challenge.

    I just need to come up with a better name for it.

  • Oh, Right, Dinner Doesn’t Have to Be Complicated

    What I really wanted for dinner was a burrito with ground beef. I miss my Tex-Mex.

    But we didn’t have ground beef, and I couldn’t figure out what to make for dinner, so I looked in the pantry. What did I find?

    • A can of corn
    • A can of black beans
    • A whole bunch of spices

    I drained the corn, drained and rinsed the beans, threw in some dried chipotle and ancho and cumin, and microwaved it all for three minutes, stirring a few times.

    Then I microwaved a tortilla (we always have tortillas), put in a little grated cheddar cheese and the bean and corn mixture and a little more cheddar cheese, and wrapped it all up.

    While it would have been nice to have lettuce and tomatoes, it was still delicious. And really, really easy.

    And when I put the leftovers into the fridge, I realized that I could just have heated up the last of the mu shu. So tonight I’ve got options.

  • Traditions: Easter Dinner

    Last year was our first effort at a family Easter. This year there was no snowshoeing, but we did dye and hide eggs.

    Easter Eggs

    Baguette hunted them, with help from Elmer the Patchwork Elephant.

    Hunting7

    Then there were deviled eggs.

    Deviled Eggs

    And Mr. Sandwich’s parents came over for a dinner of ham (my great-grandmother’s recipe),

    Ham

    roasted asparagus (shown here pre-roasting),

    Asparagus

    and beer bread (my grandmother’s recipe),

    Beer Bread

    as well as mashed potatoes and root vegetables and Lawry’s creamed corn.

    I may have gone a little nuts.

    Dessert–because I lacked time and energy to make a pound cake–was vanilla ice cream and lemon cookies, both from the store.

    Verdict? The ham, asparagus, and creamed corn are definitely keepers–although we knew that going in, because I’ve made those before (a quick shout-out to Lawry’s for sharing their recipes, BTW). The beer bread was fine, but not at the top of the food priority list for us, and the mashed potatoes and root vegetables were tasty–but when Mr. Sandwich said, “I just really like your regular mashed potatoes,” well, let’s just say that it’s tough to embrace the experiment.


    This post was not sponsored by Lawry’s. I just really like Lawry’s.

  • On Dinner

    Dogitos!

    Me: I’m just going to put this in the microwave.
    Mr. Sandwich: How come?
    Me: I like the tortilla to be warm. And the cheese.
    Mr. Sandwich: Oh, see, I like to let the warmth of the hot dog insinuate itself thr–
    Me: I don’t have that kind of time.

    Photo by OctopusHat, via Flickr.

  • Date Night?

    Do you go on regular Date Nights? We don’t.

    The last movie Mr. Sandwich and I saw in the theater was True Grit.

    Hey, it could be worse. It could have been the John Wayne version. Now that would have been a long time since Date Night.

    And that was our last movie, not our last evening out. We did go out to dinner for our anniversary in March, and had a wonderful time. That dinner, by the way, was something we’d been talking about doing since Mr. Sandwich’s birthday. In 2010.

    Do I think that parents need to connect with each other in ways that aren’t focused on their children? Yes, absolutely. Do I think that we need to have Date Night to do that? No, not in the slightest.

    When Mr. Sandwich and I started dating, he traveled to meet my parents. (This was our third date. It didn’t indicate anything about our relationship, it’s just how things went.) They showed him around town, and at one point, he said, “I feel bad leaving your parents in the car.” I said, “Oh, don’t worry about them. For them, retirement is one big date.”

    Mr. Sandwich took that to heart. We have what we call “Home Depot dates.” What do we do? We go to Home Depot. To us, spending time together is a date, no matter who else is there, or where we are.

    Our entire relationship was long-distance. What that meant was that when we actually managed to be together, what we wanted to do was be together. One of us would fly across the country. We’d spend the day meeting friends and touring the local area. In the evening, we’d go back to the apartment and eat pizza or Chinese food while watching TV shows we both liked, and talking about them.

    Exciting? Maybe not to some, but it suited us, and it still does.

    We like to go to the movies. We don’t get there as often as we’d like–we missed Bridesmaids and Captain America and The Hunger Games, and it’s looking like we’re going to miss The Avengers, which is really disappointing.

    But at some point, no doubt, Amazon Prime streaming will come to our rescue, and we’ll catch up on what we’ve missed. It won’t be the same as the big screen, but we’ll see them together and talk about them.

    Sounds like the perfect Date Night to me.

  • My Balance: Tragic Sandwich

    Rock-Scale

    I don’t know anyone in this photo; I just liked it!

    I got this idea from a post on Oil and Garlic; she got it from A Cup of Jo. Does that make it a meme? At any rate, here goes:

    1. What’s your work schedule?

    I start work at 8 a.m. (or thereabouts, depending on whether my bus is on time) and leave at 5 p.m., Monday through Friday. Mr. Sandwich works 7 a.m. to 4 p.m., so our schedules are a little staggered. We used to commute together, but when my maternity leave ended, we needed to shift it a bit. Each of us comutes by bus, although I sometimes drive to work if I have a late-afternoon doctor’s appointment, or if I miss the bus and my day doesn’t allow for me to be 15 minutes late. Or if I’m super tired and the bus is SRO by the time it gets to my stop.

    My alarm goes off at 5:20, and I get up one snooze-button hit later. I drop Baguette off and drive like a crazy person to get to my bus stop. Mr. Sandwich picks Baguette up, and we all get home a little after 6 p.m. Then we play with her, take her and the dog for a walk, feed her, and bathe her when she needs it. (The order of these events varies depending on the day.) She hates to go to sleep, so there is usually a fairly long wind-down period, with lowered lights and hushed talking and a final bottle. We want her to go to bed between 8 and 8:30, but all too often she isn’t ready until about an hour later. Then we get our things and hers ready for the next day and watch a tiny amount of TV, and get to bed between 10:30 and 11:00–about an hour later than I’d like, but that’s how the time goes.

    2. How do you handle childcare?

    We found a wonderful day care center that is about a two-minute drive from the house. It’s like paying a second mortgage–and I am not exaggerating–but we have so much confidence in them, and Baguette really likes the teachers and her little friends. If she gets sick, one of us stays home with her. Mr. Sandwich’s parents live in town, so sometimes they will come over on the weekend and help us with supervising Baguette and completing tasks around the house.

    3. What do you find best about your current set-up?

    It works. I really like her day care, although I wish it weren’t so expensive. I wish my commute were shorter, but I live in the real world of Los Angeles, and that’s how commutes work here.

    4. What advice would you give to other moms about the juggle?

    Establish priorities, and don’t beat yourself up. I had fantasies of cooking meals for the three of us. This could work, because Baguette is a pretty flexible eater. This absolutely does not work, because I just don’t have time. I felt bad about it for far too long, and then I acknowledged that I really can’t do anything but supervise her when I’m with her–she’s just too active. So now I hope to be able to do that in the future. But it’s completely unproductive to feel bad about not doing something that I just can’t do.

    One of my friends has a daughter a couple of months older than Baguette, and she makes amazing meals every night and spends time with her children. I used to wonder how she managed it, and then I mapped the distance between her house and her work. Guess what–she doesn’t have my commute! So she’s got more time to work with. It’s not realistic to compare my life to hers, because they just aren’t the same. That’s true for everyone else, too.

    5. Do you think the juggle is harder for women than for men?

    Yes. Mr. Sandwich is a very hands-on dad, and he’s also done pretty much all of our laundry for much of the past year. But Baguette is a very hands-on baby, and she wants me when I’m home. I feel like I’ve been mommy-tracked at work, and I made every effort that I could think of to avoid that. He’s got his own work issues (don’t we all?), but I haven’t gotten the impression that he’s been daddy-tracked. That can happen, of course, but I think it’s much less common.

    Photo by neurmadic aesthetic, via Flickr.