Small Things 8-16-13
1. So, a wretched night followed by a really good one last night. Not worth the trade-off but man, oh, man, it was nice to sleep through (almost) the night last night.
Kiddo’s still making conscious decisions not to try using his left hand, but I caught him petting my shirt (as he likes to do as he’s falling asleep) with it this afternoon. So maybe a lot of his hesitation is simply fear, and he was too sleepy to remember to be afraid of moving it? He really really hated being asked to/made to move it in the hospital when it hurt so badly to do it. (which, btw, I totally get. I was ready to slug the orthopaedist a few times when she wouldn’t let him alone. “Shattered elbow, bitch! Quit making him try to move his damned fingers.”)
And we had a lovely morning outside, playing and riding a BigWheel (him) and working in the garden (me). We’ve been harvesting peaches these last few days, if you can believe it. From trees that were planted as whips last year. Amazing. ‘Redhavens’ for anyone local who’s looking for a top notch peach. Wow. First good peach I’ve had since leaving the southwest.
2. Watched the final episode of ‘Dollhouse’ last night and enjoyed it. The Boy is pickier than I, and his quibbles took away a lot of his viewing pleasure, I think. But I liked it enough to be sad that it’s over. Might be nearly time to rewatch ‘Buffy’. It’s been a year or so, I think…
3. Coconut cake is a bit of a flop. Um, literally. Everything works in theory, but in fact? Very gloopy–too much pastry cream (the making of which was totally the highlight of the baking process) and too much whipped cream. I wanted to follow the recipe exactly since it was my first time making this, so I used the recommended amounts, and it’s more frosting/cream than cake. And the amaretto did not, in my opinion, add to the yumminess of the coconut.
Put it this way. Hen was offered the first piece this morning (long story why the cake wasn’t ready last night, we’ll put it down to ‘Mommy’s sleep deprivation’, ok?) and eagerly accepted it. He had one bite, asked for help because it was too hard to keep it on his fork, and ended up opting for a banana instead.
Yikes. I didn’t think it was that bad, but it certainly hasn’t made it onto my top 5 list o’ cakes, which is where it would need to be to justify its pain-in-the-assiness.
Very disappointing. Might just end up composting this one, which is a shame given the amount of work (and foodstuffs) that went into its making.
(I might make that pastry cream again, though. Because that was really fun, watching it set up as I stirred it hot.)
4. Hen seems to need to cry (or at least really aggressively whine) before his nap. I’ve noticed for a long time that he’ll sleep so much better after a little weep that I suspected he was picking ‘fights’ simply so he’d get a scolding that could be an excuse for weeping. But these days it’s very blatant. “I can’t stop crying!” he’ll whine–before he’s even started crying. Then he’ll choose something silly to get worked up about–the color of his bandaid? The texture of my shirt? And then he’ll cry. And then he’ll conk out and sleep happily.
Ah well. I could wish his sleep ritual was a bit less dramatic; but you know, at least it’s ending up with him asleep.
5. I transplanted a few hosta, moved a few flagstones out to the garden walkway, and tied up my tomatoes (again!) Plus I watched Hen ride his BigWheel, admired its shiny sides and lit-up buttons with the appropriate awe/wonder, raced construction vehicles down the driveway for what felt like years, watched the stupid-cat cross the busy street to the neighbor’s. Having apparently exhausted our own supply of rodential creatures, she has to go further afield now. She brought back a mouse-thing the size of my hand–(seriously, what was that? A nutria? Capybara? Wasn’t a rat–too rounded in the face & body. And a shorter, furry tail. It was big, and it was dead. That’s all I know for sure.)–and proceeded to play with its limp corpse until Hen wondered aloud too many times if that mousie’s mommy was going to come rescue it soon. I took him far far away while Mattie got down to the serious business of eating something the size of her head and managed to avoid his ever-more-probing questions about death.
It was a busy, productive morning. A tomato sandwich for lunch and then I’m going to go eat a slice of substandard cake. And I don’t even need to take a nap. Life is good.