You'd think that after three days housebound there wouldn't be much to tell. Haha. Just take this morning for example.
Momma Boyd gave me some little freezer pots to make Small Fry's lunches and dinners, but when I was in Brussels I saw how Momma Mark also uses silicon cup-cake baking trays to freeze larger portions. I decided to do the same and first up was one nice and juicy melon. That needed a bit of water to get the blender going, but it eventually poured into 3 of the 6 cups. I then decided to have a go with some spinach in order to fill the remaining cups. A huge whole packet of spinach doesn't amount to much once steamed and puréed in a blender, but you do need to add water to help the blending process. So I ended up with a second fairly runny mixture. I picked up the silicone baking tray and about then realised my schoolboy error. Momma Mark had used puréed cauliflower...which doesn't go marching off into its neighbour's cupcake mould as soon as you bend the silicone. As I lifted it to the freezer, I watched two moulds become a pretty swirl of a melon-spinach mix, and therefore didn't pay proper attention as I manoeuvred it towards the open freezer. It caught on the edge, I took my hand away to steady the base and the green and slimy contents of the last two cake moulds splattered all the way down the fridge and onto the floor, with the splash back hitting the kitchen door and the walls.
As I was clearing it up, Small Fry woke up and I went through to pick him up to change his nappy. I placed him down and took off his trousers and socks, undid his vest and opened his nappy. Bit of a wail from him, but at least no sprinkler from him today. I dumped the nappy in the nappy bin while Small Fry wiggled away, and as I turned back I saw his face contort into that look that you know instantly is pain, even if you've never seen it before. The look you see on a child's face when they've just trapped their hand in a door or sliced off their big toe or something. Mouth wide open, eyes screwed shut and a deafening silent breathless scream. I snatched SF up immediately and was surprised that the scream never actually arrived, and when he turned to look at me, he was fine again. So I looked down at the changing mat and about half way down was a bright yellow tac. Must've fallen off the wall where it was securing coloured drawings.
As I patted him on the back and spoke soothing words, my fingers brushed against something warm and sticky and when I put him back on the mat and had a look, I realised that his BCG blister had burst (possibly when I took his nappy off which might explain that wail) and he was bleeding. So I rummaged around for our baby medical box and then rummaged in that for the plasters, and then broke a nail trying to open the plaster box.
Back to the changing table we went. And what did he do on the way? Wee-ed right down me of course.
And by then it was 9am.
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| It's a shame bibs ever have to get dirty |
