Who all remembers kutz buckets? Our family only used a few Pennsylvania Dutch term, and “kutz bucket” was one of them. It was what we needed in the middle of the night when we got sick…”Mom, bring me a kutz bucket,” we’d cry. Last night that was me crying it to Gabriel. When he came home from school, I said, “I feel almost like I could get sick.”

Then we had chicken curry for supper, and maybe I ate too much garlic yesterday or something, but I took one bite of that chicken curry and it haunted me for the rest of the night. I left the supper table and went to bed while Gabriel took care of things. The landlord called to say they would be here in ten minutes to install our new oven (the old one hasn’t worked since we moved in).

So…all evening, Gabriel took care of the baby, the landlord worked on the oven, and I languished in bed, wishing I’d never heard of chicken curry. At 10:00, the baby needed to go to bed (it was WAY past her bedtime; she’s usually in bed by 8:30-9:00), but could I feed her? No, I could not. Gabriel fixed her a bottle of formula, and would she drink it? No, she would not. Gabriel came in to the bedroom, asking, “Is it normal for this stuff to taste like rotten cod liver oil?” I guess I wouldn’t drink it either if it tasted that bad.

Somehow Gabriel changed the baby’s (cloth!) diaper (I’m so proud of him), put her jammies on, and somehow she fell asleep on an empty tummy (I felt horrible about that). Somehow I fell asleep too after that. Gabriel cleaned up the kitchen and in the morning when I got up—ta da, new oven! No kutz bucket!

And lets just say that I’m pretty impressed with my husband’s nursemaid and childcare skills—and that he was more than happy to escape to school this morning. 😛

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