C always says our life is like a game of cannonball run... and frankly I don't know for sure what that means so I googled it. Turns out it's a speed racer movie with the fabulous Burt Reynolds... I like the way C explained it better. It's kind of like one of those games where the marble races down the maze at high speeds ducking holes in the ground- we're always racing around is the moral of the story. Earlier in the day we went to go get our passports... sure we've had since December and we need them by 3 weeks from Friday. And it's possible that we won't get the dang passport in time - but that's how we roll. We went and had 1 hour to complete this already delinquent task. We show up, pictures for the babe, me (I have to change my name on the stupid thing), the paperwork we are ready to go.
No baby - apparently she has to show up in person. Race out, get baby, come back... get guilt trip in an accent only a Charlestown Townie can provide about the fact that we are really waiting until the last minute. (For out of towners - Charlestown Townie accent sounds a lot like the first few scenes of "Gone Baby Gone.")
Later on that afternoon / early evening C & I decided to go out to dinner. Ooh wee... lesson learned never mess with the child's schedule. We decided to go out to dinner - she started screaming oh right around 7:30 pm - 30 minutes past the time of her regular feeding time.... squirming worming and screeching. Yup, those people. We decided to get her food out as soon as we sat, knowing that if she eats her rice & carrots she'll be happy as a clam and we can sit and eat our mussles in peace (we were at Legal Seasfood). As we take out what I packed...
- spoon. Check.
- bib. Check.
- food.... where is the food?
Cannonball Run in full effect - what to do? We thought fast and decided today would be the day that the little girl tries potatoes - she's loved carrots, sweet potatoes and butternut squash - why not white potato? We ordered it 'stat' and got it almost immediately - C went to work with the mashing, adding formula to the mix to get the consistency right. Watching him get the mix right is hilarious - he's working the potato, mixing in the formula, it has to be perfect - in true Christa Stewart fashion. No matter how hard he worked it, by the time it came to food time she was too jazzed up to deal. What can you do?
At the end of the night, we ate our dinner - took turns rocking her in her stroller and even had a couple of beers - it was an adventure and lesson learned to not mess with her schedule.
Walking into a post office to get a passport with out a baby gets you guilt trips and the look of stupidity... walking into a restaurant with a baby is like walking in waving a gun. Either way we are and always will be 'those people.'