Just Give Me a Second

I can't say that I've really felt like a mom the past six months--I mean the frantic, 20 things going on at once, trying to get dinner on the table, baby's crying, kind of mom that I have a great stereotype of in my head.

I haven't felt this way, that is, until this past Wednesday...
------------------

It's 5 o'clock, right around that time when I feed Weston his dinner.  There was a staff meeting after work today, so I didn't get home until after 4, which means that I am just now getting to washing the dozens of parts from the Medela Freestyle Breastpump and the two bottles that Weston used during the day.  As I wash, I'm thinking about what to make for dinner, or at least what I can scavenge from the cabinets before I actually get to making dinner.

Bingo. Macaroni and cheese with broccoli and a can of tuna.  Easy, quick, and--

My cell phone rings.  It's Mom.  With a soapy rubber glove, I answer.

"Sure, let's Skype.  Just give me a second to finish up.  About 5 minutes, okay?"

This gives me enough time to finish my daily dish washing routine, get the water boiling and chop up some broccoli.  Weston's getting antsy for dinner.  Do I feed him first?  My stomach reminds me that I need to eat something soon.  Oh yeah--Skype--get the computer started.

I quickly chop up broccoli, and add it to the noodles in the pot, all while briefly entertaining thoughts about what would happen if I chopped my finger off because Nate's at work with the car, so I don't have a way to get to the hospital, let alone where the closest hospital is--

Weston lets out a squawk from the other room, yet again reminding me that I need to get his dinner warmed up.

I run in to check on him and the computer's up, so I open up Skype and get Grandma on the line.

"I got these super cute pajamas, and when you come next week for Thanksgiving, I'll have a high chair...Oh and check out this super cute toy I got him--"

The sizzle from the kitchen is the sound of the pot boiling over.  Shit.  I run in while yelling back, "Thanks, Mom, it's super cute!"  I turn the heat down, stir the noodles, and look around for my phone because now that's ringing.  It's Nate.

"Do you have Greg's phone number?" he asks.

"Maybe--just give me a second."

"Rob?  Rob?"  I can hear my mom calling from the other room.  I quickly truck back to the living room trying to think if I have Greg's phone number, as I notice that Weston has crawled up onto the laptop in an effort to touch Grandma's face and eat the shiny Intel and Windows 7 stickers on the corner, and at the same time managed to turn the video off on the Skype call.  I peel him off, and "reset" him--meaning that I move him about 10 feet away from the computer so that he has to work a bit to get back to it.

"Do you want his number now?" I ask as I hit the button to turn the video back on Skype.

"What??"  Mom asks.

"No, hang on--Mom, hold on, I'm on the phone with Nate.  Just give me a sec--"  I quickly look through my contacts on my phone (Greg's last name...Greg's last name...wait--the list is alphabetized by first name, so it doesn't matter).  "Nope, I don't have it.  Sorry.  Gotta go, okay?  Loveyoubye."

Weston is attacking the Intel and Window 7 stickers again, I peel him off, reset, and run back into the kitchen to drain the noodles, which are either overcooked or not done, but I really don't care at this point--do we even have any butter??--and I grab his food out of the fridge and toss it in the zapper for a few seconds while I shout down the hall-- "MOM!  I can't hear you--just give me second."  I run back, with a bib, the food, no spoon, drop the food on the table, pop Weston into his high chair, adjust the computer so Grandma can still see her little man, he lets out a wail, "Where the heck is my food, Ma??" and I tell him I'm sorry and that I forgot your spoon, so just-give-me-a-second-please!  I grab the spoon, look longingly at the steaming pile of noodles and broccoli in the colander, and head back, and shovel a couple of bites of food into my son's open mouth.  He calms down, Grandma and I end the Skype call, and Weston finishes eating his squash, chicken, prunes and apples.  Phew.

Afterward, I head back into the kitchen to finish up my dinner, and discover that my steaming pile of noodles has turned into a giant sticky mess that refuses to detach from the colander.  I don't care.  This is dinner, and I don't have another second to make anything else...