I Mopped My Floors for This?

...or toddlers and couscous don't mix.

Today was one of those days I woke up feeling ambitious. I was tired of looking at my grimy kitchen floor and knew it was time to get down and dirty...you know...the kind of cleaning where you actually move things to clean under. (I mean even the drawer under the stove). We live in sand world...no, not the beautiful California white beach sand...the coarse, dirty, hard to sweep up sand. And since starting work on the garden, I swear it has ingrained itself into my floor and refuses to be swept up completely. So, I waited until Kevin had headed off for work and Jack was distracted by Manny and then got down and dirty. It was a beautiful sight.

Then, to top it off, my husband calls from the church office to ask me if I want to go up to the coffee shop and get my ultimate craving...their chicken salad BLT panini...oh yes...bacon, lettuce, tomato, onion, chicken salad, cheese, and honey mustard in a beautifully toasted panini hug. It's something people dream about. With a side of decaf iced mocha, lunch was a beautiful thing! A walk through town and a quick visit with a friend topped of the outing and we arrived back home in time to enjoy Rachael Ray.

Supper became the next discussion. I was still quite full from dinner and thought about using leftovers again...which did not excite my husband who was looking forward to a hearty meal. with visions of the food network dancing in my head, I headed to the kitchen thinking of something yummy and creative to make. We had just had rice and we've had potatoes way too much lately, so as I scan through the pantry and my eyes fell on the couscous, I was excited. Kevin likes it warm and plain so I planned that for a side dish. Chicken was defrosted and plopped into a saute pan with evoo, garlic, and onion and debated what else to add. Remembering my little herb garden, I headed out to pick some lemon thyme. I decided to skip the can of cream of chicken and make my own sauce to go with the chicken, introducing products to make a rue and then some milk and parm and then throwing in some veggies.

After assembly, it wasn't as creamy looking or attractive as I had hoped, but I thought it tasted pretty good. Unfortunately my husband had decided while I was prepping dinner he needed to get the air conditioners installed because of the high humidity. Jack and I settled down and started to munch as Kevin finished his project. As he arrived and settled down I hoped things had not gotten too cold.

Now, my husband is a good cook. He has always made certain dishes at our house, and to be honest I get nervous about what he thinks about my meals. He is never mean, but I always know when I hit a home run. Let's just say, I didn't. I got the "It's all right." Disappointed with myself, hoping to have provided a wonderful and fulfilling meal, I was bummed.

It was then, I looked over at my son as he asked..peas...requesting some more veggies and chicken. Jack is still not getting the whole plate thing. Each night, we make it a little longer before he decides to dump it. He also finds amazing enjoyment in rubbing his hands through his hair...no, not running, rubbing. I had also ended up needing to put his most used bibs in the wash, which meant falling on the back up bibs...the ones with the Velcro that don't latch as well. It had landed on the floor sometime within the 2 minutes I had been working on my dinner.

As you can imagine, he looks like has been in a couscous blizzard. After cleaning up our plates, I begin the war to de-couscous my son. Thinking it would be easier to just sweep it up, I decide to dust him off and plan on a bath for later to get what is stuck in his ear. The booster seat and table are wiped off, and it's then time to work on the floor. Well, needless to say, the consistency of the couscous by that time was much worse that the sand I had battled earlier.

As he sits here beside me, starting to smell like something brewed in his pants...I admit I have struggled with patience with him. Frustration creeps in like the snake in my rhubarb and I tense. I snarl to much and then realize how I sound...and feel guilty.

I think about a friend of mine who wishes she had her son to clean up after. I think of my mom who struggles with the realization that her baby boy will soon be thousands of miles away (yes...he's an adult but just like jack is to me...their always our baby boy). I am reminded that I need to cherish these times. I need to realize that floors don't matter and couscous can be cleaned up, but I will only have this moment once.