Yup, waffles for dinner twice in one week.
The first time felt like a treat. This time felt a little bit more like desperation.
Why the difference? Overscheduling, multiple stress levels, small children in the mix, missing naps, moon phases, hormone levels, the barometric pressure. Who knows?
And honestly, it seemed like something I could pull off one handed while holding a very fussy five week-old baby in the other arm.
The mother of said infant was busy entertaining an over-technologized, overly tired two year-old in the sand and on the swings. Everyone involved needed some comforting. The only way the adults might get much comfort would be disguised in the form of food. Hence, waffles.
Oh yeah, and bacon. Gotta throw that in there. The smell of bacon cooking is enough to take the stress level down a notch or two. I think the two year-old ate most of it.
But there was no idyllic strawberry freezer jam, or lovely semi-staged photos. The adults took turns eating so the infant could be swaddled, rocked, shushed, pacified, walked, jostled and held just so.
Sleep might descend blissfully for all involved soon.
I wouldn’t count on it, but we can hope.
In the meantime, reality trudges on.