The Job of the Heel

Dear Diary,

Almost every school day morning, the first thing I do after I get up is make the girls' lunches.  In my PJs and -- if the family is lucky -- my faded pink robe, I saunter into the still-dark kitchen to pull out the "samwich" supplies, which includes bread of some sort.  On a good day it is usually a choice between bagels, sub bread or sliced sandwich bread.

Inevitably, when I choose to use the loaf of sliced bread, I remember a scene at my cousin's house a few years ago.  It is funny what tidbits of information stick in my head over the years.  I often can't remember an occasion, but I can remember a moment.

At my cousin's home, we were putting sandwiches together for some reason.  I assume it was for a cheap lunch option for our airplane ride home from the Sunshine State, but I can't be sure.  I reached into the bag to pull out some slices, which were quite a few for my family of five.  I reached the bottom of the bag and grabbed the heel. 

Being the sacrificial mom that I am, I knew that the sandwich with the undesirable heel would be my own.

After assembling said sandwiches for the family, enter my cousin.  She is frugal minded, like me, and had the foresight to offer us her food for our comfort on the (equally frugal) plane ride.  But when she saw my heel-clad sandwich, her eyebrows furrowed. 

"Why are you eating the heel?" she asked. 

It's my job, as a mom, to eat the heel, I thought. 

In actuality, I didn't have time to reply before she said, "We only keep the heels in the bag to keep the rest of the loaf fresh.  We don't eat them."

Boy, were my eyes opened to new wonders.  Not eat the heel?  What kind of luxury is this?  Do I really have permission from my economically like-minded cousin to discard the heel for a fresh, fluffy slice of bread?

Every morning since then, as I reach for the slices to make a "samwich" for my girls, I remember her comment and bypass that heel and go straight for the center cuts.  

I have a new job for those heels:  to protect the freshness of the inner loaf! 
And when their job is done, I toss them. 

Yup.  I do.  Unless I am hungry for a piece of toast. 

Heels do make pretty good toast.

Love to my cuz,
LJ

Post Mother's Day Post

Dear Diary,

It is the Monday after Mother's Day.

The day when -- after a blessed day off -- mothers everywhere get back to
loading dishwashers,
making dinner,
changing diapers,
folding laundry,
and eating breakfast at the kitchen counter (or over the sink) instead of in bed.

In church yesterday (btw, I like having Mother's Day on Sunday.  Church is a good place to be on this day.) I confirmed something that I had only suspected was true.  I just needed to know I wasn't the only one who does this.  Now I know.

The two pews in front of me were occupied by mostly women of childbearing age and beyond, along with a baby or two thrown in.  A generous new mommy was "baby sharing" and allowing her little one to be passed into the eager hands of the women around her.
And then, half-way through the service, I saw it. 
One woman in the bunch, who wasn't holding a baby at the time, was doing something she didn't even know she was doing. 

The phantom baby sway.

That natural movement females adapt when within the vicinity of a child under two years of age.  Not actually holding a child, mind you.  Just standing alone, swaying those hips as if to lull the phantom child on them to complacency.
I think it is a pheromone thing. I don't know.

I have caught myself doing it. 
In the middle of a prayer I suddenly become self aware. Why am I swaying?  I peek through my reverently closed lids.  Oh, there is an infant two pews up that has been detected by my mommy radar.  Say no more.

(OK, stop judging me for thinking this during prayer time.  It happens.)

At the time I didn't know if this baby swaying behavior with no baby on board was normal behavior.  I sure stopped as soon as I caught myself.  Am I the only one who does this? I must look silly!

So I felt validated yesterday, when I spotted this woman doing the baby sway with no baby at hand.  Aha!  I am not the only one!   It's natural!  God must have just built that little quirk into our extremely complicated female physiology.

I am not advocating peeking around church during prayer or confession time.  But the next time I see a woman doing the phantom baby sway, I will thank God for giving us people who have a knack for mothering.

And for goodness sake, I will tell her to stop swaying.  She looks silly.

Happy belated Mother's Day!
LJ