I am formulating a new scientific theory. I am so certain of my data that I'm going to bypass the theory part, and make it a law. Hillbilly Mom's Law of Universal Ingestional Interruption.
You know what people forget to warn you about when you are mere days away from bringing a little bundle of joy into the world? YOU WILL NEVER AGAIN HAVE AN UNINTERRUPTED MEAL. That's what.
You can feed that baby until it's full as a tick. Dandle it on your knee until its eyelids droop. Lull it into a deep sleep with the repetitive motion and hum of a mechanical swing. But the second you sit down and dare to put a morsel into your mouth, your petite cherub cranks open its gaping maw and commences to caterwauling until you put down your fork.
Oh, you can hope that the infant will grow out of this phase. And with a boatload of luck and a truckload of karma, that might just happen. At the exact moment your mother starts calling you the nanosecond you sit down to supper.
I screen my calls. That's what grown-up babies are for. The Pony is an effective personal secretary. Only two numbers will pass the screen test at mealtime. One is the school information line during inclement weather. And the other is my septuagenarian mother.
I refuse to screen my mother's calls. No matter what I'm doing, I pick up. Because that's only right. After all, I kept her from enjoying many a repast. And now it's my turn.
3 comments:
And I'm an optimist. I keep my "snow chain" list posted on the fridge until the last day of school. After all, you never know when some freaky snowstorm will happen, necessitating a day off from school.
"Full as a tick". Lordy, lordy, my Grandfather used to say that after every meal. It just made me want to run from the table. Nothing like picturing a big, gray tick sac filled with blood to finish your meal.
Sioux,
What? Why haven't I been coming to you to get my eyes examined? I'll bet you give a good discount on glasses to those of us in blogland. And you must work after hours and on Saturdays, too, which would be really convenient with my teaching schedule. I'm sure glad...wait. Never mind.
We in Hillmomba have hope that the pump for Elementia and Newmentia blows another gasket. It happens at least twice a year. And sometimes we get a day off. Durn ol' Basementia is on the city water, which hardly ever breaks down.
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knancy,
Did he also tell you to put ketchup on your biscuits and gravy, salsa on your scrambled eggs, and that pickled pigs' feet would put hair on your chest?
That's why I don't partake of those delicacies.
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