Lil' Angel

Lil' Angel

When I fed Zane at five this morning he didn’t really wake up all of the way. After he was fed, his eyes drifting shut, I slipped him back into his crib and went to make my escape.


Hey, I know those leg slams. If there’s an olympic sport that involves slamming your legs to the ground, then we’ve got ourselves a contender.

Ok, I’ll change the diaper real quick and put him back in bed. Part way through that operation he lets loose with a fresh stream and I wasn’t quick enough to keep it away from his pajamas. No problem, I’ll just get him dressed for the day and then put him back to bed. Put on the delinquent diaper, a onesie, a long-sleeved onesie, socks (“Hmmm, Zane says, “I can play with these!”), pants, a sock that mysteriously was off, and viola ready for bed!

Except for the wild-eyed, boundless energy part that is.

Did you know that the reason shoes were invented was to keep your socks on? It’s true. Way back in time folks roamed the plains and woodlands in socks and you’d constantly hear them grumbling when a too-loose sock rolled down their ankle or caught on a briar and came off. Not to mention stepping in puddles. “There must be a better way!” they cried. And there was, a smart fellow by the name of Al Sockbeson came along and invented shoes, or so I am told.

Which is why we put shoes on the baby. It’s not like he’s going to get up and need to walk somewhere that might be too rough on his bare pinkies or would dirty his socks. No, it’s only to capture and retain the socks.

So where was I…ah, dressing crazy baby and about to put shoes on. I grabbed a shoe, looked down at baby Zane, and saw how the pad on the changing table looked a lot like little wings. Which of course meant both of us going downstairs to get the camera, coming back upstairs, and trying to stage the whole event for Zane’s viewing audience.

Which brings us around to cole slaw.

The last time Zane had a melt-down, if you’ll remember, we were down in New York visiting Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles and cousins. We were all out to eat at a fancy restaurant and poor lil’ Zane lost it for an hour or so. Well, it turns out his mom had eaten a lot of cabbage the day before. Maybe that was it, maybe it wasn’t, but we made a mental note.

This weekend I picked up a bowling ball sized pork shoulder on sale for under seven bucks. “Help!” I wrote to my brother Chris, “what now?” He recommended a long slow cooking and barbeque sauce: pulled pork. It was my first attempt and after about thirteen hours of crock pot cooking the meat fell right off the bone. I made some barbeque sauce and we had a lovely meal Sunday night with enough left over for a week.

All of the recipes on the internet for pulled pork also provide a recipe for cole slaw, which you are to combine on a bun for a classic sandwich. I’ve never made cole slaw but it sounded tasty. Roughly following this recipe we had a huge batch of cole slaw to enjoy with our bbq pork.

That was Monday. Tuesday found Zane a little out of sorts. Just grazing on food, a little fussier than usual, and by evening he had an uncharacteristic crying session, not a full melt down, more of a mini-melt. He was also super tired. Later he started crying in the middle of eating his rice mush. The real kicker was when he broke down crying in the middle of his bath, something he never does (he was provoked by the rubber duck!).

It could be a coincidence, maybe not. But for now it’s looking like cabbage is out of Faith’s diet for a while, or at least reduced to very small doses.