If you're not in the mood to hear me feel sorry for myself, I recommend you go read somebody else's blog. Try www.velveteenmind.com or www.dooce.com. Plenty of happy, self-effacing moms there. Or find some of the flood victims in southern Minnesota... there's some actual tragedy for you.
Right. So it's been raining for six full days. It stopped for about two hours yesterday evening, and it has stopped now; in fact, if my entire assortment of mismatched lawn furniture wasn't as soaked through as a fully-clothed-and-diapered toddler who flings himself into the bathtub... but i'm getting ahead of myself.
My daddy coming home soon?
No, Lu, he'll be home in three more days.
Where daddy go?
He's working far away.
He's going to have dinner with us.
No, no, he's not.
Wednesday was great. I biked the kids to the bank and Target in the AM and made it home (the bike trailer actually holds two giant boxes of diapers! Who'd'a thunk?) only having to walk three of the gigantic hills along the way. And how many gigantic hills are there, total? Why, three, thanks for asking. Oh, and by "walk" of course I mean "push my 40-year-old 10-speed, dragging 65 pounds of kid and 10 pounds of diapers and Borax behind it, uphill, in 99.5% humidity."
But I got the errands done without having to strap the kids in the car. Wednesday naps were A-OK, and we met up with the Riggs family at the park before dinner. And the sun came out! Hooray!
I was even going to skip the baths, but I was feeling ambitious (Joel's usually the bath dispenser). Bathed Ed. Dried, diapered and jammied him. Lovingly lotioned his little dry patches. Started a new bath for Lu. Ran to the kitchen to throw something in the trash, and
Then, "Eddie fell in the tub!"
I run into the bathroom, and yup, there's Ned, sitting in water up to his little baby waist, fully dressed. And fully drenched. And fully delighted with himself for figuring out how to get into the bathtub all by himself. Yayyyy, Eddie. Argggh. So there goes another $.25 overnight diaper. Damn, damn.
Apparently that was foreshadowing for Thursday: Bride of Wednesday. Pouring rain, unceasing, all morning. And I discover at about 9AM that, to paraphrase MacArthur Park: someone left the stroller out in the rain... I don't think that I can hold it, 'cuz it takes so long to fold it... and I'll never go on an evening walk agaaaaaaain!!
Oh, God, I'm getting delusional. Well anyway. I plugged through Thursday, through unbelievably truncated naps (Ed actually sobbed through his entire brief nap; when I went in to see what his deal was, he crawled into my arms and said "Hi!" like he'd just been waiting patiently for me to go get him), through my first attempt at actually baking bread (to be honest, it was absolutely delicious), through getting my period (sorry TMA for any boys who might be reading), through a Johnny-glasses diarrhea explosion (not mine! Ed's!) all over the entire contents of my rather large and chock-full drawer of Tupperware containers.
"What I smell?" asks Lucy.
Holy-sonofamotherlessgoat, there's poop everywhere. I dump Ned in the tub, nay-kay him up and hose him down. And scrub him out. And rinse out the tub (which reminds me, now I have to go actually scrub out the tub, damn it). And rediaper him, and then gate off the kitchen so the kids don't spread the liquid poop to even farther reaches of the house, and I am hollering because Eddie is desperately trying to defeat the gate, and Lucy is totally abetting him, and I am up to my elbows in Clorox wipes and poopy Tupperware.
Not to mention, neither of my kids have eaten more than three bites of dinner. Or lunch. Here's what they do deign to eat:
peanut butter and jelly shammiches
salmon (they are mad about salmon)
Oh, and Lucy will eat cherry tomatoes.
So I plugged through all of this, because Jamie was coming at 7pm to watch the kids while I went to play softball. I was so excited to play softball. I love softball. And I love getting out of the house when I am single-momming it. And I was so happy to get to spend the entire day with my kids before kissing them good-night and heading off to play softball.
Remember all that rain I mentioned? It makes fields soggy. No softball.
So I call Jamie to tell her.
"Great!" She says. "Now I can go for a run!"
Great, Jamie, I'm so happy for you.
So I call Jean to make sure she'd heard.
"Great!" She says. "Now I can go for a run!"
Great, Jean, I'm so happy for you.
"Yeah! This is so perfect! Um, Meg, are you okay?"
Oh, sure, sure, I'm just gritting my teeth so hard that I busted a filling.
So I call Joel, to whine a little and also because Lucy wanted to talk to him.
"I'm almost done golfing, can I call you right back?"
Oh, dear, honey, no, I'm sorry, that's not the right answer. Try gushing with sympathy, and after a few minutes of that, tell me you're going to take me on a date somewhere and that you've totally planned the whole thing and maybe throw in a nice little compliment, like You made a veggie egg bake for dinner tonight? With extra cheese in hopes that the kids would actually eat it? That sounds great, I miss homecooked meals. And don't call me back while you're pooping, either, I seriously cannot take it.
So there was just wayy too much screaming and whining and crabbiness in the house, and that didn't even include the kids, so I decided bedtime was at 7:00 tonight instead of 8, and as I have Ed on my lap and Lu by my side and we've finished our two lovely bedtime books and we're just starting our first lovely bedtime song, Ed decides to chomp on my thumb. The thumb with the fingernail that's a little too short today as it is, and is a little owie anyway -- he bites down on it like it's a BLT. I scream and immediately burst into tears. Can I even tell you how much it hurt? It's an hour later and it still hurts like the dickens. It's reminiscent of the time I burned my hand on hot soup while waitressing at the HobNob back in the summer of '97. Instant, unbelievable pain. Anyway, my tears totally freaked out both kids (I remember reading somewhere that parents really need to try to quell their emotions because toddlers can't handle the idea of their parents being out of control, and it could ruin their little brains).
So... I'm stuck alone with these kids for the next 22 hours. Say a little prayer for all of us.
Oh! I did find an amazing time-waster at ikea.com -- the kitchen planning tool! It's the coolest thing -- you can draw your kitchen and change/move things as you wish and then view the whole thing 3D. It's seriously awesome. I spent 3 hours (kids' naps and bedtime!) yesterday goofing around with it, which is another reason I had six hours' worth of dishes to do today.
Well, listen. It's 8:30 and I think the Twins game is still on the radio. Plus I know there's ice cream in the fridge with my name on it. Plus I know I can scrounge up a vodka-tonic if I work a little. Ciao. On to a better tomorrow.