You know how there's, like, a PERFECT amount of drunkenness for bowling? You go out with friends, play a few frames, and you're doing fine, but nothing remarkable. Then, a few beers later, suddenly everything is a strike, except the 7-10 split that you absolutely OWN. And just as you're making your plans to join the pro circuit, you drink juuuuust one more beer, and suddenly you can barely get the ball out of the gutter.
It's like that with being tired, too, I've found. I go from my usual state, to just plain tired, at which point I become clever, charming, and generally hilarious. Then I have one more bad night of sleep and the next thing I know, I'm hurtling down the expressway and it takes me a solid two minutes to remember where I'm going. Then I think, muuhhhhh.....maybe I should eat lots of food. And next I think, "Sigh. Now I am stupid AND I need new clothes."
Guess which phase I'm in now? Sigh, indeed.
Unrelated: yesterday at the produce market, I had Katie in the carrier and Gracie in the cart. Gracie was helping me put red peppers in a bag when a rather loud woman walked up to us and started blathering about how wonderful it was that I was TALKING to my children instead of being on my CELL PHONE, and on and on. And I felt really uncomfortable and kind of speechless. Because on the one hand, it doesn't matter who they are or what they are saying, when someone compliments your parenting, it's really hard to have any reaction other than bashful, aw-shucks, drink-in-the-validation. And so there was some of that. But also? Gah. PET PEEVE. Mothers are allowed to talk on the phone. I know that before Katie, when I had more of a free hand, so to speak, I actually tried to make my phone calls in the store, because Gracie was mesmerized by the bright lights and people and displays, as opposed to at home, where she needed my constant entertainment. Just because you see someone talking on their phone for the thirty seconds it takes to walk past them doesn't mean you know a thing about the way they spend their days. And although I was chatting and playing with my daughter in the store, I also let her watch too much non-educational tv on many days when we're home, and that little nugget makes it way onto my application for Mother of the Year, too.
Also on my application: Grace has been waking HORRIBLY from her naps lately. Yesterday was no exception. Shortly after she woke up, Stephen went to get her dressed for swimming. She. Lost. Her. Mind. Went insaaaaane. Stephen asked what I wanted to do, and I said we'd go anyway- she does that a lot and then rallies once we're out of the immediate situation. (this is just like the moment in the horror movie where the people go upstairs to check out the funny noise, isn't it?) So we got in the car, and yep, she was fine. Ran around the locker room once we got there, laughing and having fun. We went out to the pool, and she was acting...funny. Normally she sits right on the edge of the pool, next to me, kicks in the water, and demands that I get in the water (she knows she's not allowed in the water until I get in). Yesterday, all she wanted to do was play in the drinking fountain. The teacher bribed her into the pool with a toy, and she started jumping in, standing in the water (she's just now tall enough to "touch bommom!"and thinks it's the coolest thing ever), throwing the toy so she could swim after it, etc. And then it was circle time.
(cue ominous music)
Gracie did not want to do the circle time. She didn't want to sing the songs, she didn't want to do the motions that went along with them, all she wanted to do was scream no and cling to me like a spider monkey. I tried everything and she just kept escalating. She was obnoxious and disruptive and we just could not stay. So, we didn't. I was utterly mortified, turned ten shades of purple, and carried her out of the pool and to the shower. Continued to feel like a gigantic horse's ass the entire time we were getting showered and dressed. She was told multiple times why we were leaving, apologized, and even said to me at one point, "mama, pwease be happy. be happy, mama." Sooo, message received? I hope so, because minutes later, one of the moms we've known from previous classes came into the locker room and told us she had a present for us. I had complimented her daughters on this dress before, and she was giving it to us, since her girls had outgrown it. And that is only the second nicest thing she did, because when she heard what happened, she did my absolute favorite thing in the world: she told me a story about one of her daughter's tantrums. I mean, seriously, is there a nicer thing one mom can do for another?
I feel like this is the point where I should tie everything together, but I'm too tired. (ooh! that kind of ties it all together! Go me.)