Big Tuna

So before I start this post, I have to preface it with two fun facts about myself.

1. I really like tuna. I know it's really weird, but I love to mix it up with some mayo, celery and cucumber and eat it on crackers for lunch. I probably do it once a week, and I would do it more but I think eating tuna in general is pretty weird.

2. I make it my personal mission in life to carry as much thing upstairs as possible. I usually eat lunch at my desk, and I refuse to go back downstairs for multiple trips. It is just less effective.

But then I endured the Great Tuna Incident of '09.

It started innocently enough. I plopped Andrew on the counter while I made my tuna salad and crackers. Well, I didn't make the crackers, I pulled them out of the plastic sleeve. You know what I meant. Anyhow. I made my tuna just the way I like it. I got the crackers ready, and poured myself a glass of raspberry lemonade. Then I remembered Addison wanted chocolate milk, so I made her some, and then mixed a bottle for Andrew as well.

Then I realized I had to figure out a way to get a bowl of tuna, a sleeve of crackers, a glass of lemonade, a cup of milk, a bottle and Andrew up the stairs in one trip.

So I gathered up Andrew in my right arm. I picked up the bowl of tuna with my right hand, but the bottle in the crook of my left arm, the crackers on Andrew somehow, the chocolate milk in my sweater pocket and the lemonade in my left hand. Then, feeling very on top of things, proceeded to carry the whole lot of it up the stairs.

When we got on the landing, I realized Andrew was putting his hand into the tuna, grabbing fistfuls of it and squishing it all over his bottle and the floor. I started freaking out. In the commotion, I spilled all of the lemonade on myself. I still had no hands to stop Andrew from squishing the tuna, so I commenced yelling at him.

"ANDREW! ANDREW! NO! BAD BABY. YOU ARE A BAD BOY!!!"

He was completely unphased, and continued to squish away. I started back up the stairs, which you would think I would have already considered before. But I was so preoccupied with the trail of tuna being left on the stairs that I kept stopping to yell at him. By this time, the lemonade was down my shirt, and his entire bottle was covered in tuna. I continued to yell at him like a lunatic until I got upstairs and dumped everything on my desk. Andrew was covered from head to toe in tuna and mayo, and I had to go down the stairs to scoop up the tuna from all of the treads. I then had to wash his bottle, since he wouldn't take it with it smelling like tuna/

THIS IS MY LIFE.

I felt like that old riddle, where a man has a fox, a bag of corn and a duck on the bank of a river, and he needs to get them all across. But he can't leave the corn with the duck, because she'll eat it, and can't leave the fox with the duck because he'll eat her. (Ten points if you can tell me the solution, I've loved that riddle since I was a little kid.)

NEVER AGAIN will I be so stubborn. I am a two-trip girl for life. Andrew gets his own special trip. He also got extra kisses from being yelled at by yours truly. WHO YELLS AT A NINE MONTH OLD BABY??

Mom of the year.