Better Parenting Through Abandonment
January 11, 2010
(That whole paragraph, including two [2!] separate numbered lists, was one sentence. That might be my finest work yet.)
This year was no exception. After a deadly combination of inedible finger food and cheap-ass liquor, our night ended during an after-party in the hotel lounge, where I sat around talking to people I've never met before about topics I don't quite remember. I am going to guess it wasn't my finest hour, as at some point a woman across the table said something like, "Well, I'M a Republican," and I was all, "Shit, am I talking about politics? Shit. Ctrl-Z, man, sorry." And then everyone stared at me and I started explaining what Ctrl-Z meant and the entire table was like, "WE'RE COMPUTER PROGRAMMERS, MORON."
Another woman kept trying to give me her bracelet after I said I liked it.. Then I woke up and my head hurt. The end!
At least my dress was pretty.
(Yes, the red hair has faded muchly. That was the original idea: a semi-permanent copper color that would quickly fade to a strawberry blond in case I didn't like the darker shade. Except that I did like the darker shade and am dying to go back and color it again, but also don't want my poor over-processed hair to snap off like twigs above my ears.)
And my children were appropriately scarred for life, as they both up and got themselves massive cases of separation anxiety out of nowhere. Before we left on Saturday afternoon, Noah hurled himself onto the couch and wailed, begging us not to leave him in the care of two doting grandparents who would surely do terrible things like...I don't know, PLAY TOYS and WATCH TV with him. Last night he came into our room four times between 1 am and 3:30 am, mostly to make sure we were present and accounted for through a series of pokes and forcible eyelid openings.
Ezra was napping when we left, and oh, that was a bit of a mistake, letting him wake up after we were gone. He now fights sleep tooth and nail, thrashing around any time we get ANYWHERE near his crib, clinging to me like a desperate baby monkey. So that's fun! And not guilt-inducing at all. Or annoying.
(My in-laws are still here, by the way. The reason this entry is all over the place is that I only feel like I am "working" [and thus not obligated to entertain and/or dodge political/religious conversations with them] when I am typing. So. Typing! Typing after two terrible nights of no sleep! My brain in no longer hooked up to my fingers! Type type type-y type.)
(I haven't eaten lunch yet, either. My in-laws are like, HEALTHY, hardcore near-vegan raw food healthy, and whenever they are here I get insatiable cravings for crap like hot dogs and spend my days plotting how I could eat one [or four] without anyone noticing.)
(Oh, God. This isn't fair to you guys, making you sit around reading my stream-of-sleep-deprived-hot-dog-obsessed-consciousness. I should just go type some emails or something. Here, have a baby picture. Just try not to zerbert your computer screen, okay?)
(Next up: plot how to eat baby without anyone noticing. GLOM.)