lasagna night is my absolute favorite. not because i’m all that into lasagna, especially since it may be a slight misnomer at our house…noodles, sauce, mozzarella and cottage cheese does hardly a lasagna make. but this, friends, is how i get my son to eat carbs. He’s a meat man. he can eat several POUNDS of wings at a time, and can outeat his father when it comes to steak, or chicken, or meat. but dammit, i can’t get my son to eat bread. or pasta. or rice. there’s a reason that he’s six and weighs 34 pounds, friends. i wish he would teach me his ways (oh wait, he can, it’s called the Atkins Diet) but, regardless. this is the way they like it, so i allow it, because ohmigodmysoniseatingpasta!
but this is NOT why it’s my favorite.
it’s because of the way Miss Isabella says the word.
she wants to eat pagina.
it’ll never get old for me. well, until she learns to say it properly and then i’ll cry and be all “What in the sam hell happened to my baby?!?!” but that’s a sob story for another time.
last night, however, was a shitty night to make lasagna. I’ve been sick…with legitimate sickness and with the added sickness that comes when i get nervous (HELLO, I’M MOVING TO ATLANTA IN 5 MONTHS!)(HELLO! I’M MAKING A SLEEPOVER BIRTHDAY PARTY FOR 12 GIRLS ON SATURDAY NIGHT! HELLO, MY BRAIN IS FRIED AT WORK AND I NEED SOME SERIOUS INSPIRATION!)…so my brain wasn’t thinking that people were coming over to see the house. why didn’t i just take them for pizza or something (oh, yes, because my son would only eat the cheese)?!?!
and seriously…showing the house you’ve lived in for the last 7 years to complete strangers is tough, man. tough. way tougher than i’d thought. as i walked through the house (it’s so clean right now even i would lick off the floors) and tried to hide of cover up those marks and spots and parts of the house that are less than pretty, it hit me. this is the spot where Josh took his first steps straight into the wall and took the paint off with his face. this is the piece of wall that broke off that time i tried to hop the baby gate and both of us (the gate and yours truly) came crashing down. this is the ugly green carpet that we never got around to replacing. this is the spot on the wall where Isabella made us a Sharpie masterpiece. this is the spot on the wall where Emily made us a Sharpie masterpiece. and this is the spot on the walle where Josh made us a Sharpie masterpiece and tried to pawn it off on his sisters (only, we know. since he’d written his own name) these places…these spots…these things that potential buyers will look at and say…”once we move in, Frank, a good coat of paint and some new carpet will cover this right up!” are memories to me. MY MEMORIES.
and while i’m so excited to move on to the next stage of our lives and to make pagina and new memories in my parents’ house and then in a brand-new house, it’ll be hard to leave these ones behind. for some other family to come in and cover up.
(i truly, truly, truly will NOT miss the green carpet, though…no matter how many memories i’ve made in that room…)