Best-Laid Plans

I had big plans for this weekend, with a carefully laid out schedule to maximize use of independent playtimes and naptimes so that I could finish cleaning the house, get my parents' guestroom ready, pack our things for our Monday-Wednesday trip to Sam's family's, make cranberry nut bread for Christmas morning breakfast, and do some advance turkey work.  I was even hoping to find some time to make my late grandfather's favorite oatmeal raisin cookies.  Overly ambitious? Perhaps, but I was looking forward to the cheery bustle of holiday preparations.  

I got more housework done in the early morning than I'd even planned, but then I noticed I was feeling some ominous aches, and after moping around the house with Allison Clare in tow for a while, I realized we were in trouble.  I napped during her afternoon nap, bidding farewell to my oatmeal-raisin cookie hopes and even the cranberry nut bread.  When she woke up, I was a shivery, achy mess, and Sam stepped in for a while.  Finally overcome by a sense of responsibility, I went downstairs to try to endure the rest of the day but lasted only an hour and a half--during which time my infant watched her Baby Mozart video for the second time in one day, to her great delight.  The DVD has a "repeat play" setting, and it started up for a third time, but I just couldn't take the mommy guilt and attempted feebly to keep her occupied for a while.

Thankfully, Sam felt my forehead and sent me up to bed, where I lay in the dark hearing faint sounds of them making their way though AC's late-afternoon and evening routines, which I usually direct.  I responded to one request for a clean (Sam-sized) t-shirt to be tossed down the stairs, but I asked no questions, and no explanation has been volunteered, except that after AC was in bed, Sam said he was going downstairs "to clean up our messes."  Good soul.

He also took over the turkey, my plans for which I'm almost embarrassed about.  You see, last Christmas, we spent Christmas Eve with his family in Ohio and met my parents back at our house on Christmas day.  I had to pull together a turkey dinner in 4 hours, and it was pretty hectic, especially when we arrived home to find the bird had not thawed according to plan.  There was what has now become an historic incident of snappage at my mom and some imperious commands to Sam, and neither of them enjoyed seven-months-pregnant stressed-out holiday me.  So I decided this year that besides not being pregnant, I would roast the turkey and make the gravy ahead of time, serving it on a platter that way instead of doing it all on Christmas day (we're coming back a night early this year, but hoping to go to our church's candlelight service--little time for food prep).  I fear it may seem a little like fast food or leftovers, but we've found the gravy to be really, really good--maybe even better--when browned again while the turkey reheats in it (she said lamely).  The main thing is that I want to thoroughly enjoy Allison Clare's first Christmas.

So my poor husband kept Allison Clare placated, brought me glasses of orange juice, trudged with the turkey breasts (another shortcut) up from the basement freezer, supervised their thawing, and returned them in the roasting pan to the fridge.  One of the funny things about Sam is that he is easily made grumpy by small inconveniences in life, but when push comes to shove, he is absolutely solid and reliable.  He ended up having to bear the brunt of my many plans for the weekend, but he seems to be holding up admirably.

And as for me, I'm blogging from bed, but I don't think I've ever been sick in bed for more than a day (a fact I smugly credit to my childhood diet of tons of fresh fruits and vegetables), and this is only my second bout of the flu in the past ten or eleven years, so I'm hoping for better things tomorrow . . . maybe even resumption of my roasting and baking intentions?