Untitled (Because I Can’t Think of One)

One thing I love about summer is peach season. I love peaches. I love the sweet, fruity aroma that calls to me from the other end of the produce section. My favorite Jamba Juice smoothie is the Peach Pleasure. My first favorite drink was the Fuzzy Navel. I suppose it still would be, but no self-respecting barfly would order one now. (Self-respecting barfly: oxymoron? Or is it?) I almost stopped at the store on my way home from the gym to pick up vanilla ice cream to go with my anticipated dessert of a fresh peach. I talked myself out of it. I had a Skinny Cow ice cream sandwich today AND a bag of M&M’s. I was already in the red. My workout tonight got me back to square one, at least.

I am looking forward to giving Kyle a cut up peach but I am worried that he’ll disappoint me the way Stewart disappointed all of my family and friends the first time he tasted New Haven pizza. It was from Mike’s in West Haven – no Zuppardi’s – but still. Everyone held their breath while Stewart slurped the hot cheesy yumminess and took his first bite. He looked up, and looked around at our questioning faces. “It’s…good.” He said. “I like Domino’s though.”

GAH! Blasphemy. But this was from a man who puts hot sauce on everything. EVERYTHING. Plus, he once stirred a leftover green salad into his morning scrambled eggs and called it good. So you can see what his standards are.

Anyway. I hope Kyle likes peaches, because now that it’s peach season I can go peach crazy.

Another thing I wanted to tell you is something I thought after work today. So far the routine has been this: when I get home, Kyle is in a fantastic (crazy puppy) mood. He runs up to me roaring with delight and either runs away, like he’s playing a game, or he runs into my arms for a big snuggly hug, which makes him scream with laughter. It’s so wonderful that I can barely get my shoes off or put my bag down fast enough to get down on the floor and play with him. I think of nothing else for a few minutes, then my stomach reminds me that someone must unwrap the cheese sticks for dinner.

Tonight we were putting animal shaped balls into a plastic bin, and counting as we did. Once three were in the bin, Kyle would tip it upside down and dump them into his lap, the way he does with sand in a bucket or water in a cup in the bathtub. This made him laugh so hard that even I had tears of laughter coming down my face. (Oh, side note to tell you that every day when I get home, Kyle is not wearing pants. Or sometimes not a shirt, either. Stewart doesn’t find it necessary to re-dress him after changing his diaper. It makes him cuter, too.)

I found myself thinking that I am so happy to have Kyle in a good mood when I get home. Stewart is always in a good mood, too. It’s such a wonderful family picture to greet at the end of a day. Looking back on my year at home, I feel kind of bad that more often than not, Stewart would return from his work day to find Kyle crying or cranky and me similarly if not more so. I said as much to him this evening, and he said he never minded. Of course, his day was not the Regurgitated Breast Milk Extravaganza that mine was. But still.

On another side note, because I can’t keep my topics together and I have no intention of proofreading this, I don’t give myself enough credit for the meals I have prepared for my family for dinner these days. Haha, I joke about cheese sticks, but actually I have made it a point to orchestrate the preparation of a healthy appetizing meal every night since I started working. Okay, one night last week we went out, but that was Friday, and it was really hot in here. Tonight we had Texas White Chili, which was Crockpot Meal of the Week. I actually had a salad with leftover grilled tuna, tuna that Stewart caught himself in Los Cabos last fall. Kyle had a combination of both, plus his milk. He still eats a ton, and you can tell!

The End. (Because I can’t think of a nifty little way to wrap this one up, kids.)