The Next Time

The next time it’s my child’s birthday, I’m going to remember that two types of homemade bbq, mac ‘n cheese and coleslaw is not an easy enough menu, even if the bbq is thrown together in the crockpot and I prepped the coleslaw the night before. I’ll recall that my husband will be scrambling to buy the meat and bbq sauce the morning of because I couldn’t get it all at the co-op and I never made that second trip to Costco. I’ll try not to forget that my sister-in-law and her fiancé will end up slaving in the kitchen to make a quadrupled recipe of mac ‘n cheese in containers meant for just one. I’ll look at the photo of my daughter clutching her high chair in terror at the sight of the three layer cake I made entirely from scratch so no mediocre boxed mix ingredients touched her lips. And maybe I’ll be honest about telling my family that the coming one hour early is not actually to take photos and open gifts but really to use them as free labor to finish the party preparations right before the guests arrive at one.

The next time I offer to throw our amazing friends a blessing for their soon-to-arrive baby girl, I will try to recall how utterly ridiculous it was to host it in our mainly moved out of home with splotches of paint samples on the wall instead of moving it to a restaurant, for example.

The next time we talk about taking a trip to Iran a few days after my sister-in-laws wedding thinking that after it our schedule will be wide open, I’ll try to think back to the time when actually everything was going on and we had to cancel the trip.

The next time we move almost entirely out of our house to get every square inch of surface repainted to make things a bit more baby friendly, I’ll try to recollect how almost entirely is not indeed entirely moved out and there will be a significant amount of dust all over tedious things like books or say between framed objects and in addition to being unsightly that dust may also contain lead because the painter that promised to not sand potentially lead infested areas chose to sand those areas. Or that the shirts left in the armoire will all have to be professionally laundered because they reek of paint. I might also try to prompt myself to stash the blinds away in a safe place lest they disappear sometime between the first day of painting and the last. And it probably would not hurt to insist that the trusty handyman stick to his plan of glazing the front windows because even though the painters are significantly cheaper they will end up breaking five panes of glass.

Oh hindsight.

 

4 thoughts on “The Next Time

  1. Amber

    Oh, my. Sounds like you’re making the best of it, but you’ve had a rough couple months! Anything I can do to help? Wanna play date at the children’s museum soon?

    Reply
  2. Mitzi

    Wow, Saba. You need to move to Iraq. We keep our expectations of what we can get done VERY VERY low. But thanks for blogging about it. I cannot wait to see you in person!

    Reply
    1. Saba Post author

      Oh my, my expectations were WAY off on so much lately. It’s taking exactly twice the time to do all the house stuff as I originally thought. Oh well, live and learn. Thankfully all this will be but a distant memory by the time you roll into Houston!

      Reply

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