As we sat in the parking lot of the local grocery store, sipping our Starbucks breakfast drinks and planning the rest of our day, we had the idea of treating Your Aunt. She had driven into town Wednesday and was staying with Your Parents for Veterans Day, and we were invited to have a meal with them. The boy would of course be in tow.
Our big idea was this: Ask the parents to watch the deputy while we take Your Aunt in town. We'll treat her to a dinner, if she wants, and stroll downtown. Your Parents are always saying they love watching the boy; it didn't feel like we were dumping him on them.
Your Mom cobbled together a meal of frozen lasagna, hummus, pita bread, and cranberry salad. It was fine. We had it for a late lunch not long after we arrived and fed the sidekick. We told Your Aunt of our notion, and she was relieved almost to the point of tears. I didn't know this, but apparently those sisters have very little diet in common, and she didn't want anything in the house. We were happy to be of service. I was with the deputy when Your Sister mentioned the idea to Your Mom. I didn't hear the sales pitch, but initially Your Mom was OK with it. We fed the baby again and left with him sleeping on the floor. We said we'd be back soon, maybe a few hours. All seemed well.
We ate at Tupelo Honey. None had eaten their before, and we enjoyed it. Your Sister got shrimp and grits, which made her very happy. Your Aunt wanted to duck inside Urban Outfitters, and we did. Back home we went. And the bottom fell out. Your Mom was insulted that we went somewhere else to eat. She was crying. She appeared drained to the point of exhaustion.
As I made a beeline to the boy and Your Dad, I missed what the womenfolk were saying, but I caught up later. Your Mom took our excursion as a comment on her food. I assume she was told that we thought of the invite before we even got to their house. I dunno. Again, I was with the baby. The back-and-forth went on a while. Your Aunt commented to Your Dad that when they visit her house, Your Mom brings all their food with them. They don't eat the same, she said. I stayed back. I minded the sidekick. This was based on a family dynamic I'm not a part of. I did mention to Your Aunt later that, as far as we knew, there was no dinner planned. And as I type this, I have no idea what, if anything, Your Parents ate last night. We packed up the boy and drove home after reassurance was attempted. When we got home, Your Mom and Sister talked on the phone for about an hour.
It was goofy and awkward, but I still think the invite was correct: Your Aunt drove a long way, and should have had the chance to sight-see. Which is what we did in a very small amount of time.
Your Mom is also trying to convince Your Sister that the boy prefers bottle and formula over nursing. We understand that bottles let everyone feed the baby, but if Your Sister needs to be milked, why not use this handy, new milking machine? Formula is for emergencies. Earlier this week, she threw away an entire bag of milk over concerns of contamination, and she used formula instead to feed him. Are these items related? I'm not sure. But I found a handful of Tums in the diaper bag last night, and one was the exact same color of green that he pooped out a few weeks back. I couldn't figure out why he made that strange color. I'm forced to wonder (until I hear back from Your Sister for confirmation) if they've given their grandson non-prescribed medicine. I hope this is a misunderstanding. I hope I'm very wrong. If not, I'm going nuclear. Until I hear anything, my angry brain is tightly leashed.
Your Aunt said Your Parents won't go to her house for Thanksgiving for the same reasons they won't go to Alabama. We appear to be going there.
Picture of the Day
Seriously this stuff is confusing.