Sans Danny

Danny is the glue that holds me together. Yesterday, I shipped that glue off to South Florida to find a job. No sooner did we arrive home from dropping Danny off did I, while laying Dominic down for his nap, kick the bed and manage to split my big-toe nail quite a ways into my nailbed. Mmmhmm.

When Dominic woke up, we rushed to make it to church early where I was expected to run the camera. Dressed to go, Dominic ate his lunch- picking out strings of shredded cheese and a few saucy noodles. I ran to his room to grab Noemie's church outfit, expecting to see much the same picture as I ran back through to my room. But no. Dominic decided he'd prefer to eat his noodles off of the tray so he dumped the bowl onto his tray, except that he missed and a good pile of wet noodles escaped through the gap in the high chair and were now snuggly nestled around his legs and waist. Dominic was wiping his hands on his face and shirt (not his bib of course). I considered his outfit a lost cause and ran to get another after wiping him down. Dominic, meanwhile, pulled the tablecloth to reach things that he wasn't supposed to and proceeded to season himself with the salt. I was beginning to panic. I fed Noemie and dressed her (and redressed her... she's my doll and she has to look perfect) then changed Dominic's clothes and threw them both into their car seats. I arrived at church half an hour late and Dominic still had pasta sauce on his legs. When we got home Dominic got a quick bath and jumped in bed (but not without spilling milk on his pillow, down the side of the bed, and onto the carpet.)

I would just like to point out that yes, I am capable of sustaining myself in Danny's absence. It's just that he's an ISTJ and I'm...practically the opposite. I will tell you of Day 2 without Danny to illustrate.

This morning we went to Winthrop Park, where we met up with Krissie and Tommy. There are few things in life as heart warming as watching Dominic's excitement when he catches sight of Tommy at a distance. He squeals with delight and starts his lop-sided gallop to catch up with his beloved friend, giggling the whole way. Sometimes, when they reach each other they hug, though more often than not the excitement suddenly dissipates and they go their separate ways- Dominic to climb the tallest playground feature and Tommy to shake all the other kids' hands. Today, Dominic's attention was drawn to an abandoned toddler buggy in the corner of the playground. He took a little ride on it and an angry looking one year old approached him so I encouraged Dominic to play with something else. Random kids took turns playing on this buggy and, after a while, Dominic found the buggy unoccupied again. Dominic took his seat and was making his way around the swings when two boys between 5-6 years old ran up to Dominic and violently flipped him off the buggy. Dominic rolled backward onto the mulch with a look of injured confusion as the kids yelled at him for using their toy. For an instant, I wanted to punch those kids' faces. And I let them know it.

Before we left the park, Dominic befriended an older Italian man who threw a football back and forth with him and who taught him to run around the bases on the nearby baseball diamond. Dominic left the park dirty and tired, but he'd played good and hard and enjoyed Tommy's proximity. I, on the other hand, was still trying to calm my boiling blood an hour after the buggy-yanking incident. I have my father's temper.

Amy came to spend time with Dominic so I could wash my hair, and then she washed my dishes. Things were running surprisingly smooth so I decided to brave a ropa vieja. I set the meat in the pressure cooker like I always do, with just enough water to cover the meat and a half a handful of salt, then I locked the lid and set it a notch above medium. I then got to making sofrito, chopping garlic and onions and green peppers, and catching up with friends on the phone. Dominic and Noemie, meanwhile were watching a DVD. At one point I looked up and saw Noemie fiddling with the DVD player and Dominic trying to deal with the problem. When I reached them, I heard Dominic explaining to her, "memedon-do-da" (noemie, don't do that), as he wrapped his arms around her waist and tried to pull her away. I was floored- I'd never heard him say that before. Or anything remotely close to that. My child speaks in sentences and I didn't know! Return trips to deal with wandering Noemie entailed fishing half a chewed up business card from around her gums, and replacing a DVD player dial she managed to remove.

At about this time, I noticed that something resembling molasses was oozing out of the top of my pressure cooker. I called my father, the chemist, who referred me to my mom, the other chemist... but before this could get figured out, the smoke alarm started to sound and within seconds I realized that my house was full of thick smoke. I opened all the windows and all the doors, and welcomed all the neighborhood houseflies into my kitchen. Five hours later, my bedroom still smells like a tobacco smokehouse. My ropa vieja was charred and I set the pot to soak with vinegar, baking soda, and some misery. Somehow, these things don't happen when Danny's here. And on the rare occasion that they do, at least Danny knows how to turn off the smoke alarm.

Michael and Rachel saved the evening by bringing over steak and bocaditos and chips and onion dip and a balloon and cookies and teaching Dominic that giraffes say "achoo." Sophia and Heather joined us before long. Dominic ate potato chips and a fistful of matchstick carrots for dinner because it's his birthday, followed by 2 small cookies. We stuck a candle in each of his cookies, sang him happy birthday, and then he blew out the candles without any help. I said "I love you" from the doorway as I put him down for the night and, for the first time, he said it back. That's my two year old!