Boy Oh Boyers

What a Sunday! Let's cover the catastrophes in reverse order. This evening just before Uncle Tim (a.k.a. Tim) arrived for dinner, I was simmering a promising pomegranate rub for the pork tenderloin. (Gotta' love that Alton Brown on Food Network). Anyway, it was time for Rowan to eat and by the time his meal was over, Tom and I noticed an odd smell coming from the kitchen. Apparently my pomegranate sauce had gone from thickening to...um...smoking. And it was the consistency of black tar. Which is just about how our house smelled. Thank goodness for the 15-minute marinade in the pantry.

Just an hour before the Pomegranate Sauce Disaster of '07, I had spilled nail polish on the carpet. Could it be that I would spill it during a French manicure, where some pale color of white or pink might fall on the tan fibers in our living room? NO! I would have to be painting "Chick Flick Cherry" onto my little tootsies. That's right, dears -- red nail polish on the living room floor. Thankfully Tom read quickly online and we were able to get it up. Here's a surprise: to remove nail polish from carpet, apparently you should use nail polish remover! And no, it didn't eat a hole in the carpet (at least not yet).

About two hours before the the Nail Polish Disaster came the minor catastrophe with really deep comic value. Tom and Rowan had retired to the recliner for a little Sunday afternoon reading while I went to take a little nap. I had fallen into quite a deep slumber when I was awakened by Rowan crying and Tom saying "Gonna' need some help. There's poop everywhere." Everywhere indeed! Sometimes I suppose the sheer air pressure is just too much for a diaper, and the poop goes up the back (of the baby, not just the diaper). Of course then it comes through the clothes onto whatever happens to have the misfortune of being around. Oh, yes -- and then when the soiled garment is removed, there's poop left in the hair. Yummy. It was straight to the kitchen sink for this little stinker!

After that short list of unexpected obstacles, followed by what ended up being a delicious dinner, we did our normal nighttime bath. It is this bath, and its accompanying after-bath ritual, that I'll tell you about now to leave a smile on your face after all. As you may have noticed from the photos, our Rowan is a roly poly boy. He's squishy. Ample. Cuddly. You get the idea; frankly, he's a fat baby in every sense of the word! But we're not worried about this. He's had nothing but breastmilk since he was born so whatever fat he has, he obviously needs -- but the fat he does have is extraordinary. It results in creases all over the place: on his wrists, forearms, upper arms, neck, thighs, ankles, wrists, and more. These poor crevices have become irritated perhaps from moisture, so Tom had the brilliant idea to powder them after the bath. But we don't have baby powder. Corn starch, though, is a pantry staple. So we went for it. The next thought: how to apply it? I decided it seemed powdery indeed, therefore my normal mode of applying powdery substances was brought to bear on this new task. Yes, my makeup bag was robbed of quite the high end makeup brush, and it is now relegated to brushing powdery whiteness into my son's fat folds! In case you wonder how a baby might react to having his hither and thither regions tickled by a makeup brush, let's just say he thinks it's funnier than Jay Leno doing a standup about pomegranates.