... it's pie. Lots and lots of pie. "But, " you might be wondering, "didn't you have a baby or two since your last post?" And yes, we did and that started the whole pie thing. Andrew's wonderful mother came out to visit after the birth of our latest wee one and it just so happened that it was Thanksgiving. And Thanksgiving means pie. And if you have one pie, then you have to have another when that one runs out. So poor Jeanne fell into our trap and made us pie after pie, ending with the best apple pie I think I've ever had (but just to be sure I'd better try a few more out). Then she left and the pie was gone.
We soldiered on for a few weeks but it was no good. There was no pie. I was suffering post pie depression but Jeanne came to the rescue and sent me a few recipes. Lo and behold, pie depression ended with my first successful pie. I think I've made a pie every other week or so since then.
But this pie love has led to a few shameful behaviors. The first pie started us into this sad selfish spiral. I was so excited to share it with my boys-- a little baked love from Maman. And what happened? O didn't even finish his slice, let alone ask for seconds or ask for maman to make more. I wasted a whole piece on that ingrate. And so he got no more. The other day he asked if Mama was making a treat and if he could have some. He got a packaged cookie from me-- no pie for you. Yes, I hide pie from my own child now.
And then there's our wonderful neighbors. We love them. We think about bringing them pie to share some of our love for them. And then we think that that would mean that there is a pie that we're not eating. Can't have that, so no pie for the neighbors. I'll make them cookies.
Probably most shameful of all is that the hour between 11pm and midnight is no longer bedtime. It is now officially known as "pie time" and each day is spent making references to the upcoming pie time. My days are also spent whining about being fat, but that is always put on hold for pie time.
I've even begun to wax philosophical about making pies. For me it's like having children. I've made a few, and this latest one has turned out pretty dang good, but I still don't feel like a pie maker. Am I seriously a mother? Mothers are supposed to know a lot more about being mothers than I do, just like pie makers know a lot more about making pies than I do. But did I mention that this latest pie turned out pretty good? Best of the bunch, according to Andrew. Is there hope for this newest baby? I'm already pretty in love.
5 comments:
That's a cute little baby.
Oh my goodness! I must tell you that I ADORE his name!! And I really hope you've seen the Madagascar movies, because King J is my all time favorite. He refers to everyone as "freaks" in an Indian accent. Also, I have found memories of a J from highschool who was an immigrant from China and had a heavy accent. He tried out for a school play singing Phantom of the Opera and well, everyone made fun of him. He took it in good spirits and then spit in everyone's face by becoming a concert pianist and playing in Carnegie Hall. You've done well. He's beautiful!!
Yay, Sofia, So glad you like the name. Andrew let me have it to keep me from naming him Lucian. He was nameless for the first week or so of his life. Andrew went to register him with the name Julian and as he was in line at the registry I was texting him about the name Alistair.
And thank you, Aaron. It isn't his cutest picture but it was his most recent at the time of the post. I'm working on more as well as a post of all the harrowing details of our goriest birth yet. Excited?
Which baby is that now? They all look alike to me now. I am not being sarcastic.
Seriously, Andrew? Maybe you need some more solid bonding alone time with your latest creation. Have you met my little Jude? I'll introduce you and let you get to know each other while I get to know a manicurist.
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