I boiled a pot of eggs for salad and rinsed them in cold water when it seemed like twelve minutes had passed. I didn’t bother to set the timer while they cooked and I nursed the little one in the other room. I relied on gut instinct and smell. It seemed impossible to be in two places at once anyway and the nerve-racking echo of the oven timer couldn’t be reckoned with. When he finished, we went back to the kitchen. He was hungry and refused the oatmeal I made earlier. I offered cheese, which he readily ate so made a cheese quesadilla for him. As the eggs cooled, I diced carrots and celery then the eggs and mixed them in an orange bowl with chunky sea salt, pepper, and mayonnaise. A scoop of salad went on top of rice cakes and onto a small plate. The little one sat in his chair stuffing quesadilla squares into his mouth. All done, yes. I cleaned him up and he sat in my lap while I ate. I held him in one arm and my plate in another. I half read half ate and I couldn’t say how it happened exactly, but the plate slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor atop lunch. Uh oh, he said. On to snack.
I’m giving this yearlong project a spin. Undoubtedly, I will fall and pick up again. Knowing this makes it easier. Still, I plan to show up to record a short photo and story of my day. You’re welcome to join me. I’d love it really. We can give each other high fives and geek out with a hashtag (#ayearofus), not because everyone is doing it, but because we’re doing it, together. Showing up every damn day to make this creative habit real.