Don't I look tired?Yesterday I went to the grocery store, a favorite past-time of mine here in Heber City. I love visiting grocery stores in other parts of the country. I browse the aisles, noting the brands I don't see at home, looking for regional food, things that intrigue me. Two things that are always on the list here are Grandma Sycamores bread, and cinnamon bread from either Days Market or Smiths. There is ALWAYS fresh cinnamon bread in the bread aisle, and it isn't from Pepperidge Farm - it is the REAL DEAL. So yummy toasted with a slathering of real butter melted into the cracks and crevices.
Wrapped up in a gender neutral blanket and being held by big sisterLast night was Sully's first night home, and it was definitely an adjustment period for all of us. Since his arrival was four weeks early, his homecoming was coupled with fishing out what could pass for baby boy clothes from the "BABY" bin in storage. We were all exhausted by bedtime, but it was a little tough for Sullivan to figure out that sleeping in that new bed of his (the one without the heat lamp like in the NICU) would be OK. At 2 am I found myself consoling a very tired mommy and sending her off to her bed. Next comes the sleep deprived grazing in the kitchen. I pulled the toaster out of the cupboard and commenced the ritual - 2 slices of cinnamon bread in the toaster, pull the butter and a knife from the cupboard and wait for the deliciousness to ensue. (Sorry fellow FCFC members!)
While waiting for the toaster I turned my tired attention to unloading the dishwasher, and then the toast popped up. I turned and was so frustrated that I had
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
went the smoke alarm - an alarm that would put the church fire alarm to shame - I swear the fire department on the other end of town could hear it.
Just great. Like I needed that! I start waving my arms trying to dispel the smoke, running through the house looking for the switch for the ceiling fan. I run to the front door to get the smoking toast outside, halfway there I run back trying to turn on the fan, then run to the front door to find it LOCKED. For sure, Olivia will wake up screaming, the baby will wake up crying, and I will find myself in the doghouse. I toss the toast out the front door, race back to the living room and run from switch to switch turning lights, fireplace, and who knows what on and off. Everything but the fan. During all of this I am trying to find out where the smoke detector was so I could wave my arms in the right direction. It wasn't long before Rode comes running out of the bedroom followed by Katie - ready to put out the fire. I wish I could say that Rode came flying out in his underwear, but he had presence of mind to pull some shorts on. Darn, it would have made for much more entertaining reading. They find a very guilty, sleep deprived