Laundry day in our household goes a little something like this: I'm up ridiculously early changing Pearyn's diaper when I go to the drawer to meticulously (fumbling through a drawer in the middle of darkness) select another outfit for her. Suddenly, I realize I'm reaching into the drawer of despair ... it's empty.
Thankfully for Pearyn (and for me), my husband is pretty good about doing laundry every couple of days (which comes in handy when you have to change your daughter's outfits several times throughout the night because she can only sleep on her stomach, which also means there's about an inch of diaper to absorb pee instead of the entire thing).
So on laundry day, once I've discovered I'm in need of an outfit or seven, I usually shuffle to through the kitchen and down the basement steps with my half-naked, squirming daughter to retrieve said laundry. And although the plan is to quickly grab an outfit and go, I have to sort through her hoards of onesies until I select a giant armful that will get me through the next few days (because apparently it's too much work for me to make more than one trip to the basement).
Laundry day usually ends with every outfit my daughter owns winding up on top of her in her crib, pictured above, mainly because I don't have the energy any longer to sort through all of her outfits. It doesn't seem fair that my nearly-six-month-old daughter has more clothing than I do.
Of course, there are a few onesies that jump ship during the long journey from the basement, through the kitchen and then past the abyss that is my office, and while I'd like to say I wrangle up the stragglers right away and add them to my pile, they usually end up dotting the floor until I either fall on one or my husband picks them up and washes them all over again.
What will be the fate of these laundry day casualties? Only time will tell ...
Laundry day took place in about 20 minutes this morning, and after that my daughter and I were off to run errands (ending world hunger, creating world peace and going to the grocery, the usual).
Today's trip was inspired by my craving for pumpkin cupcakes with cream cheese frosting and butterscotch glaze. And because I'm vegan, I get to make all of this from scratch - both a blessing and a curse. While sifting through a variety of flax seeds (an egg-cellent egg replacer, ahaha, I'm so corny), I came across something that nearly made me wet my pants I was so excited. (Because only cool kids wet their pants!)
While it didn't actually say it was "vegan," the label did inform me that it was completely free of dairy, eggs, gelatin and ingredients derived from animal sources. All of this is just a nonchalant way of saying vegan without scaring all the folks out there who avoid cruelty-free like the plague. (Your precious Oreo's are vegan too ... haha, I'll ruin America's favorite cookie for you as well!)
I've been in search of vegan nutella for approximately two years and 364 days, basically every day since going vegan, except one (I think I was searching for a good cheese replacement that day). The worst part about my delicious animal-free chocolate hazelnut spread? The $9.99 price tag. Seriously? It has like four ingredients, how could that amount to $10?
I broke down and bought it because let's face it, I'm not strong enough to say no to my cravings. It's probably worth noting that I'd pay $20 for the tiny jar it's so delicious.
Regardless, it made me think about my daughter.
If my daughter is never exposed to "regular" milk, cheese, butter and all sorts of cholesterol-ridden foods, will she ever truly "crave" them. Or will she be so used to our freaky-deaky vegan ways that when she craves a cheeseburger she'll want a walnut "burger" and Daiya cheddar "cheese?"
What do you think moms and dads, is it possible to crave something you've never had?
Either way, it's nice to know my daughter won't have to live in a world without "Nutella" any longer ... thanks to a little product called "Justin's Chocolate Hazelnut Butter."
Drool ... don't judge me until you've gone three years without a delicious Nutella-like spread.
What one food could you not live without?