Friday, September 26, 2008

Retro

As we speak, I am cooking a pot roast. It's in the crock pot. It smells like adults live in our house. In fact, I was very confused when I woke up from my nap that somehow I woke up at my grandparents' house, in Maryland, in 1987.

I think I will greet Ryan at the door wearing heels and pearls and carrying his favorite cocktail in one of those heavy, smoke colored Old Fashioned glasses with the diamond grid on the bottom and a ship etched into the side. Then I will shoo a freshly bathed and impeccably dressed Charlie off to play quietly so Ryan can read his paper while I put the little white hats on 'the roast' before serving. Where do the little white hats go? This particular roast has nothing sticking out of it that looks particularly hat-worthy.

Or maybe (like last night) I will hand him Charlie fresh from a time-out then flit back into the kitchen without so much as a peck on the cheek muttering appologies about the huge mess and the fact that dinner won't be ready for another half hour before asking him if he would mind running out after he gives Charlie a bath because I forgot to buy milk.

At any rate, nesting has taken a tasty turn in this house.

7 comments:

Steph said...

Maybe you could find a Donna Reed dress that magically hides the fact that you're pregnant because heaven forbid that anyone know that you actually had "relations" with your HUSBAND. We all know that the stork brings the babies.

If only! :)

Kyla said...

Hahaha! You always make me laugh, Becca.

anna said...

LOL@it smells like adults live in our house. I know that feeling. You forgot the part where you vacuum in high heels.

Nichole said...

...and pearls with perfectly coifed hair.

Sarah said...

Yum-- I heart pot roast.

Also, how about taking a page from The Tota Woman and wearing Saran Wrap?

Sarah said...

That should say the Total Woman-- my spell check is AWOL

My Buddy Mimi said...

There's nothing wrong with pot roast, as long as he doesn't get too used to it. But I figure as long as he doesn't walk through the door asking "where's my dinner?" you are probably OK.