Tragic Sandwich

Tag: walk

  • Why Our House Is a Disaster – Weekday Edition

    caution tape

    We’re refinancing, and on a recent Friday, we had a visit from an appraiser. The house was not even remotely clean, although I did set my alarm for 5 a.m. so that I’d have time to at least straighten up the living room (read: put things in stacks). Instead, I was so exhausted that I just kept hitting the snooze button. Sorry, appraiser.

    Mr. Sandwich and I are constantly evaluating the way we spend our time, particularly on weeknights, so that we can finish everything we need to and be ready for the next morning, while still getting Baguette to bed. What does that look like right now?

    5:30 a.m.
    Get up, wash face and brush teeth, unload dishwasher, wash any dishes in sink and put in drain rack to dry, give dog her medicine, open dog door, take one egg out of the refrigerator, put skillet on burner (which is not yet turned on). If it’s a day when we send lunch for Baguette, prep thermos with hot water.

    5:48 a.m.
    Finish bathroom routine. Shower if I’m lucky.

    5:53 a.m.
    Go back to bed to keep Baguette from rolling out; Mr. Sandwich gets up, gets dressed, and leaves for work.

    6:20 a.m.
    Get up, counting on Baguette to not roll out; get dressed, pull her pre-selected clothes/socks/shoes off of the shelf, get diaper and wipes and put them with her clothes, scramble and cook egg, heat up food to go in thermos, put egg in portable container, put food in thermos, assemble her lunch bag, put her breakfast in her tote bag along with anything else needed that day (set out the night before). Put yogurt and granola in my lunch bag if set up the night before; otherwise plan to buy breakfast at work. Feed dog. Make sure back door is locked, cabinets are latched, stove is off, and refrigator is closed.

    6:40 a.m.
    Unplug anything that has been charging overnight and put in handbag. Go back to bedroom and change Baguette’s diaper. Put her pajamas in the hamper and dress her for the day. Comb her hair. After she lies back down, sit her up and comb her hair again.

    6:50 a.m.
    Make Baguette stand up and walk to front door. Pet dog goodbye. Pick up bags, lock door, coax Baguette down steps, put her and bags in car.

    6:55 a.m.
    Arrive at day care. Get Baguette and her bags out of car, sign her in, drop off tuition or hot lunch money or other paperwork as needed, and walk her to classroom.

    7:02 a.m. If I’m lucky.
    Leave day care. Drive to bus stop. Park car, run across street, hope to catch bus. If I do, hope to get seat. If I don’t, drive to work. It’s an hour either way.

    8:05 a.m.
    Enter building. Buy breakfast and coffee, or just coffee if I managed to pack my own breakfast (lunch is even less likely). Go upstairs and work.

    5:00 p.m. Unless I have to work late.
    Leave building. Walk to bus stop. Catch bus home.*

    6:00 p.m. Unless traffic is worse than usual.
    Exit bus. Get in car and drive home.

    6:07 p.m.
    Arrive home. Pet dog hello. Change clothes. Put away any dishes in drain rack. Pour milk into straw cups for evening and next day.

    6:12 p.m.
    Mr. Sandwich brings Baguette home. Feed Baguette as much fruit and/or Goldfish as she will eat.

    6:25 p.m.
    Take Baguette and dog for walk around the block (1/2-mile distance). Discuss day. Encourage Baguette to walk, but carry her for intermittent stretches. Let her run back and forth when the impulse strikes her.

    7:10 p.m.
    Return home. Pull together some semblance of dinner for Baguette while Mr. Sandwich helps her play with the hose (it’s hot out). Start her bath.

    7:20 p.m.
    Change Baguette’s wet clothes and feed her.

    7:50 p.m.
    Mr. Sandwich gives Baguette her bath. Set out her pajamas and nighttime diaper, take dog out, feed dog, close dog door, wash dishes from her dinner, empty her lunch bag and clean containers, straw cups, and thermos, probably wash the skillet from that morning.

    8:05 p.m.
    Dry Baguette off, put her in nighttime diaper and pajamas, let her watch Sesame Street. Continue to prep for next day, gathering any paperwork or materials needed for day care. Eat tortilla with peanut butter (if lucky).

    9:10 p.m.
    Go to bed. All of us, because otherwise Baguette won’t. (Note: That’s “go to bed,” not “go to sleep.” There’s no telling how long that could take.)

    What’s missing from this picture?

    *This is when Mr. Sandwich does as much laundry as humanly possible in 50 minutes. Neither one of us has time to fold it or put it away.

    Photo by skyloader, via Flickr.

  • Talking About Sleep (But Not Doing Much Actual Sleeping)

    Saturday was weird. Baguette woke up and then decided to nap at 9:45 a.m. for abut 45 minutes–just long enough to get a second wind. She finally fell asleep again at 3:30, which is about three and a half hours later than I want her to nap so that she stays on schedule for day care.

    Even when she was awake, though, she was only interested in me. We went to the park, because she loves to run free. Except that this time, she sat down on my lap and leaned back against me. Very sweet, and I savored it–but hardly the outdoor exercise I wanted her to get.

    After her belated nap, we went out for frisbee. This does not involve playing Frisbee, although I can understand why you would think that. No, that’s what we call “going for a walk around the block” at our house. Why? Not for Baguette, although I can understand why you would think that, too. It’s actually for Wicket. This dog loves to walk, and when we say “walk,” her ears perk up and her eyes shine. She’s ready. So if you don’t put her in the harness and leave right away, she concludes that she has done something so horrible that no walk is forthcoming, and she starts to cower sadly. The guilt was too much for us. We started spelling it out, saying, “Should we go for a W-A-L-K?”

    That worked really well, except that after about a month, the dog learned to spell. So we came up for a code word, and that’s been working for about two years (This is what inspired us to refer to Baguette’s baths as SCUBA. Seriously, it works. Although I’m still surprised that the Dog Who Can Spell hasn’t picked up code-breaking.)

    After frisbee, Baguette was bouncy with energy–again, all over me. She wasn’t particularly interested in food, but she did enjoy SCUBA. Apparently that washed any residual tired right off of her, because she clambered all over me for over an hour. There was no distracting her, not even with Red Puppet (again with the code words).

    This inspired the following conversation:

    Me: Do you think maybe it’s the pajamas?
    Mr. Sandwich: You mean, they’re inspiring her?
    Me: Maybe. It might be the red stripes giving her energy.
    Mr. Sandwich: Or the shark.
    Me: Like a shark, she can’t stop moving.
    Mr. Sandwich: Ever.
    Me: Maybe.
    Mr. Sandwich: I’m pretty sure that’s it.

    Meanwhile, Wicket will sleep at the drop of a hat.

  • In The Good Old Summertime

    The Rabbit and the Rose

    Yesterday, Meagan Francis of The Happiest Mom wrote about making the most of the remaining summer days. My thought at the time was that because Baguette isn’t in school, and because our weather is mild for so much of the year, this doesn’t have the same resonance for me right now that it does for others.

    That said, I think I had one of our nicest summer evenings last night. We took Baguette and Wicket out for a walk. About a block away, we encountered a neighbor who we’ve spoken with many times. She’s in her 80s and is a retired teacher, with a garden full of ornaments that appeal to small children–and she is completely unconcerned with the effect of small children on that garden. Baguette wandered around her front yard, spinning whirligigs and petting the dachshunds (one of which is quite frail, requiring significant oversight from Mr. Sandwich). Wicket and I sat on the lawn, and all of us talked about dogs and children and our neighborhood. It was relaxed and friendly and comfortable.

    I can’t think of a lovelier way to spend an evening.

    Photo by rustler2x4, via Flickr.