What I want for Mothers Day.
To sleep until noon.
hah.
I also want the upstairs neighbors to turn down THEIR FUCKING MUSIC. These people need to move. Or get a nice rocket grenade in their stereo. If the floor is vibrating, people, your music is TOO FUCKING LOUD. The Impling of course, is sleeping soundly through all this. I, on the other hand, have stuffed earplugs that supposedly block up to 30 decibels of sound and I can STILL hear their stupid music through the ceiling. Asshats.
Ye gods I'm in a stellar mood. I've had a week of nonstop rain, a week of night shift for my husband starts tonight, and a cranky baby who wants to read "The Foot Book" every five minutes. No down time. At all. So this Mother's day, what I am primarily is tired, impatient and frustrated.
It's my 2nd Mothers Day, and really, this morning, I was an easy target. I got all misty when my husband greeted me dripping at the door with a bouquet of tulips and a smile. We had a lovely lunch (all three of us...together) and I fed the Impling the last of the brownies I made yesterday. Happy baby. Then K had to hit the sack for the afternoon, and with the relentless downpour, the Impling and I were just a little stir crazy. We read through her collection of Boynton books, until we reached overload.
"What does a sheep say?"
"BAAH!"
"Yes that's right, Good girl! Now what does a cow say?"
...
...
...
"BAAH!"
Well, you get the picture. So we played with magnetic gears, watched the rain, cleaned the kitchen, danced around to African Playground, had a long bath, tossed the circulars from the Sunday paper all over the floor, and then carefully mixed in a sprinkling of biscuit crumbs left over from breakfast and hoarded in some secret place. Then we swept up (for the 4th time today) and the Impling replaced the mess with a snowy white layer of kleenex lovingly ripped from the box and placed ever so carefully on the floor.
Supper is the two of us. We have perogies and "little trees". We wash up to "Peter Paul & Mommy" (the first and best album). K wakes up, they play until he has to get ready for work, and I vegetate for 10 minutes.
Then the pre-bedtime laps, running from the kitchen to the nursery, and back, and forth, and then a couple of spins, just for the heck of it. Very. Tired. Baby.
After reading "Olivia", "Goodnight Moon" and "Time for Bed" she melts into her bed and falls asleep. K has left for the night, and finally, the musical onslought from upstairs seems to have at least mellowed.
I never expected motherhood would so completely dominate my life, but it has. Which is not necessarily a bad thing. Not necessarily terribly good either.
But now I'm remembering her face when she's laughing. And that warmth in my heart is the best balm ever.
Happy Mother's Day.
hah.
I also want the upstairs neighbors to turn down THEIR FUCKING MUSIC. These people need to move. Or get a nice rocket grenade in their stereo. If the floor is vibrating, people, your music is TOO FUCKING LOUD. The Impling of course, is sleeping soundly through all this. I, on the other hand, have stuffed earplugs that supposedly block up to 30 decibels of sound and I can STILL hear their stupid music through the ceiling. Asshats.
Ye gods I'm in a stellar mood. I've had a week of nonstop rain, a week of night shift for my husband starts tonight, and a cranky baby who wants to read "The Foot Book" every five minutes. No down time. At all. So this Mother's day, what I am primarily is tired, impatient and frustrated.
It's my 2nd Mothers Day, and really, this morning, I was an easy target. I got all misty when my husband greeted me dripping at the door with a bouquet of tulips and a smile. We had a lovely lunch (all three of us...together) and I fed the Impling the last of the brownies I made yesterday. Happy baby. Then K had to hit the sack for the afternoon, and with the relentless downpour, the Impling and I were just a little stir crazy. We read through her collection of Boynton books, until we reached overload.
"What does a sheep say?"
"BAAH!"
"Yes that's right, Good girl! Now what does a cow say?"
...
...
...
"BAAH!"
Well, you get the picture. So we played with magnetic gears, watched the rain, cleaned the kitchen, danced around to African Playground, had a long bath, tossed the circulars from the Sunday paper all over the floor, and then carefully mixed in a sprinkling of biscuit crumbs left over from breakfast and hoarded in some secret place. Then we swept up (for the 4th time today) and the Impling replaced the mess with a snowy white layer of kleenex lovingly ripped from the box and placed ever so carefully on the floor.
Supper is the two of us. We have perogies and "little trees". We wash up to "Peter Paul & Mommy" (the first and best album). K wakes up, they play until he has to get ready for work, and I vegetate for 10 minutes.
Then the pre-bedtime laps, running from the kitchen to the nursery, and back, and forth, and then a couple of spins, just for the heck of it. Very. Tired. Baby.
After reading "Olivia", "Goodnight Moon" and "Time for Bed" she melts into her bed and falls asleep. K has left for the night, and finally, the musical onslought from upstairs seems to have at least mellowed.
I never expected motherhood would so completely dominate my life, but it has. Which is not necessarily a bad thing. Not necessarily terribly good either.
But now I'm remembering her face when she's laughing. And that warmth in my heart is the best balm ever.
Happy Mother's Day.
Comments
Stay dry and stay loved. Happy happy.
I know the book of which you speak. The Impling hasn't shown any signs of being interested in this one...yet.
Personally, I can never get through "The Runaway Bunny" without a serious laughing fit over the "blow me" line. I've had to stop reading that part.
I'm ruined. RUINED, I tell you!
Thanks Thalia's Mom. You made my morning!