February 20, 2011

Child B still has the same ability to frustrate me that she did when she was two. And six. And 12. And up until she got to be about 16, when, oddly enough, she got human again.

Thursday, the indications were that birth was imminent. A couple of the signposts that generally mean 12 to 36 hours until the onset of labor had occurred.

It is now Sunday, and we’re not in labor. On reflection, I am pretty sure this frustrates Child B much more than it does me.

(For the record, Children A and C had the same ability to frustrate me, although Child A did not start doing so until she was about 9 or 10. And Child C has never stopped. I love them all dearly, and it’s a good thing; else I would have killed them and hidden the bodies and told God they died.)

So. I’m not (yet) on the road for Nashvegas. I am, instead, cooking. Again.

I did, in fact, make the below-mentioned lasagna. It was damn good, too.

I figured I’d make lasagna, which should hold the two urchins for at least two meals. And while I’m at it, I’m making enough meat sauce they can make spaghetti. They have bread. They have red beans. If Child B waits long enough, I may put a pot roast in.

The sauce is cooking. I was originally going to just use jarred Ragu, which NS likes. So I sauteed my onion and my garlic, dumped my pound of ground beef in, found a half-pound of what appeared to be more ground beef in the freezer, so I got that out to add. Sniffed it — it was pork sausage. No biggie. Threw it in anyway. Browned all that. Oregano, basil, rosemary, thyme. Two cans of tomatos didn’t go far toward creating enough sauce. A can of tomato sauce didn’t help much. So I dumped the jar of Ragu in anyway, rinsed out the jar with about half a cup of water, and it’s a nice consistency now. I can always add some more water if I want.

I have the ricotta in the fridge, and some grocery store mozzarella, as well as parmigiano. Actually, I have some pecorino Romano, and some Asiago, too. May grate up some variety of all those.

And I’ve got cheddar cheese biscuits in the oven. Why not, right? I’m really in the notion to make one of those cherry pudding cakes, but I don’t think I’m ambitious enough to do that, and besides, I’d have to take it with me, because no one else here likes it. But I could do that. I suspect Son-in-Law A would be thrilled.

I’ll be cooking a good bit while I’m up there caring for the new mama and new granddaughter. Child B has already requested red beans and rice, which she will get the night she comes home from the hospital, unless she decides she wants something else. I will have to do a pot roast for her at some point, and some coconut macaroons. I will probably do chicken and shrimp enchiladas while I’m there, and maybe sherried tomato soup. And I will most assuredly have to make a vat of mac and cheese for SonInLaw A, as he thinks my mac and cheese is the best on the planet. As I will then have Velveeta in the house, I guess I’ll have to use the remainder to make pimiento cheese.

So. If you and y’mama ‘n ’em know any tricks for speeding up the onset of labor, pass them along and I’ll call Child B.


One Response to “Pfffth.”

  1. Toy Lady Says:

    My Surly Boy was nearly 2 weeks late. As I recall, I had plenty of time to finish his baby quilt (a pieced “Jacob’s Ladder” pattern I think), THEN hand quilt it, THEN quilt it some more, and THEN cross stitch a label poem for the back of it. (“The best kind of sleep/beneath heaven above/is under a quilt/handmade with love – love, Mom) (yes, it was kind of sappy – I was 9 and a half months pregnant!)

    So yeah.

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