Stress to the power of overwhelmed December 20, 2010

 

“You’re not done with your Christmas cards? It’s a little late.” Those words came from my father the other day, who, while visiting us for an early holiday gathering, spotted the pile of homemade cards yet to be addressed and stamps. This from the man whose never baked a cookie or personally signed a Christmas card in his life. This is also the man who waits until Dec. 23 to buy mom’s Christmas gifts.

Pointing out my lateness like that sort of makes me want to throw something at his head. Yet, he’s right. Christmas cards? Not finished yet. Presents? only half-wrapped. Long-distance packages? Still sitting on the table waiting to be taken to the UPS drop. Baking the cookies and fudge for my neighbors and mailman? Don’t make me laugh.

Somehow, I’ve figured out a way to make my usual amount of holiday freakouts triple in number. I’ve added a six-month-old baby to the mix, and not only does he not give me a five-minute break during the daylight hours to turn on the oven and stir the cookie batter, but he’s managed to catch a bad cold and hold on to it like a tween to a Justin Bieber concert ticket for two WHOLE weeks in the middle of December.

Because I’m really smart, I decided I was too overwhelmed to continue with our usual regimen of cloth diapers for the little dude. He was sick, I was sick, Dad was sick, the weather is below freezing and making the weirdo dog even more hyper than usual, and all my holiday planning has gotten completely derailed in the name of making sure this tiny human can eat and breathe comfortably enough. So I figured that digging into our stash of disposables was the way to go. No extra laundry and fewer diaper changes every day.

Yeah. So, the problem with that is jillion-fold. First, we’re introducing Elijah to vegetables one at a time, so we have to pay attention to any unusual rashes or other reactions in case of food allergies. Second, he’s on amoxicillin because of the cold and a slight ear infection, which is causing some interesting diaper experiences. And by interesting I mean the kind that make you rear back like you’ve just kicked over a rock and woken up a rattlesnake. A very smelly, poopy rattlesnake in need of a bath. Third, because the baby is fighting a cold, I’m never quite sure what he’s crying about. Is he wet? dirty? Snotty? Can’t breathe? Is his appetite finally back and he’s extra hungry? Sinuses hurting and he just can’t sleep? More teeth coming in?

As it turns out, regularly diapering with disposables is for the birds. For the first time in the six months since I shoved this little person out of my body, he has a diaper rash. Whatever the disposable diaper manufacturers tell you about their super absorbent diapers keeping babies dry, it’s all bunk. The only way to prevent diaper rash is frequent changes. And so, the only way to avoid being astonishingly wasteful with the frequent diapers changes is to go cloth.

Every year, I say to myself, “Self, you need to give yourself permission to not do certain things.” Such as, not send Christmas cards. Not bake. Not go to a lot of trouble with Christmas gifts. But then I always stop and think, I don’t want to be THAT person. That slacker who fails to send out cards one year, and so gets the axe from everyone’s Christmas card list. I CAN’T be that person. I love getting the cards, and I even love reading the obnoxious brag letters. I love brightening someone’s day with a little surprise like a bag of fudge and cookies. I love spending time thinking about my loved ones and thinking about what kind of gift would make them happiest on Christmas morning.

This year, I still don’t want to be the “slacker,” but I now, at least, understand who THAT person is. That person is a mommy. Or someone who just has a lot of other junk to think about other than pleasing everyone else at Christmas.

So I’ve decided to compromise. I’m still sending out gifts, Christmas cards and going to a lot of last minute trouble, making up for two weeks of lost time due to the Great Sickness of 2010. I’m just going to be a little bit late about it. Really, whose heart is going to break if they get my holiday greetings the day after, or two days after, Christmas? Actually, I can think of several people who would most likely have a better day if they never heard from me at all, but I enjoy reminding those people that I still care about them, no matter how much they don’t give a crap. It’s how I roll.

This year’s motto: Bear with me. Or don’t. Either way, you’re bound to get some cards or fudge thrown your way. Or, if you prefer to stand there and criticize my lateness, I have another motto for you: Duck. Something extra interesting is coming your way, wrapped in a disposable diaper.

Wine for your Weekend: 2006 Bandit Merlot September 25, 2009

It might be the tastiest cheap California merlot disguised by tacky, gimmicky packaging.

Most wine box designers spend a lot of time carefully creating packages to say, “It’s OK. I’m adorable and recyclable and nobody will judge you as the blousy, romance-novel-reading, boxed-wine drinking lush that you are.” Or, if  said wine is from Target, the box says, “Technically, I’m a cube, not like those other guys at Wal-Mart. I also come in a cute portable style like an adult juice box, because we here at Target appreciate your hipness and sense of irony. Unlike Wal-Mart.”

It’s all about making consumers feel better: both the snobs and those who wish not to be seen as a wine rube. I freely admit to being both of those things, which is why when I’m drawn to the sale tags at Meijer, I chalk up the tacky factor to Research. I’m doing this for all of you, not for me!

Apparently this Bandit merlot is by the same guys who brought us the unfortunate Three Thieves giant-jug-o-wine. You know, the one with the silhouette of the three horsemen on the cover and a screw top? Yeah, the one you bought because it was ironic for someone like you to have a great big wine jug — because the same people who bought that jug would never, EVER, be seen wheeling around a grocery cart with the un-ironic Gallo jug. But the joke was on us, folks. As much as I am a fan of screw-tops, I’m afraid the Three Thieves jug is just undrinkable, so much that I wonder if the horsemen on the label could have any connection with the apocalypse.

Bandit Merlot, however, is lovely. A nice, solid, dry red. Good for porch sitting on a fall evening, lasts long enough for the sun to go down, and it will still be there when you finally retreat inside to watch a new episode of Glee. Because this is a big bottle. Ten bucks gets you 1 liter, which is about a bottle and a third.

As for me, I used that extra third to make a surprisingly good pasta sauce the other night. I know it was surprising because I heard someone say “That was REALLY good” while he cleaned up the dinner dishes. It’s not an exact science, but if you’re up for a “little of this, little of that” cooking, you’ll like this:

Start by heating up the garlic and herbs in some olive oil. I saw this once from a nutty vegetarian cook on PBS, who said “You have to let the spices and the garlic bloom before you do anything else.” She’s totally right, and now I do this every time. Then, toss in some chopped tomatoes from Mom and Dad’s garden, and let it cook down for a bit. Then add some milk, flour (just a tad) and butter, and whisk to keep the clumps at bay. Then pour in some of the wine, keep stirring until the sauce is a wonderful smooth pink concoction. Finally, just dump it over the macaroni. You’re done.

I used to be afraid of my husband’s random way of sautee-ing things, and in a sense I still am. However, if I’ve learned anything from that “Julie & Julia” movie, it’s that you can’t go wrong with a little butter and a little wine. Those two things will forgive a multitude of imprecise kitchen sins, including the habit of not using measuring spoons. Although I cannot guarantee any results, especially if you, like me, enjoy the wine straight up whilst cooking.

If you do end up with a hot mess in the kitchen, at least you will be left with something amusing to read on this tacky wine package, including ten fun facts listed on the back, in what I like to call “Ransom Note” font. Number ten will make you feel better about your kitchen struggles: “You can crush this bottle on your forehead when your done.”

OK, cute. Tacky, but cute.