I think the time change is seriously fucking me up. Daylight savings is normally in April...late in April, right? So what's happening is my inner clock is all screwy because it's still light at 6 pm, but it's also still really cold. And since it's only mid-March, I'm still in hibernation mode, like an ornery lady bear drawing the blackout shades of her cave and demanding more starchy snacks and another quilt. The late-evening sunshine says spring is here, let's party! But all I wanna do is watch bad TV, eat Veggie Booty, and read novels that may or may not be sucking away my IQ points. It's still goddamned winter!
So, yeah, I've been off kilter this week. I have been walking around with this puzzled/irritated look on my face; lots of frowning and sighing. This week I couldn't wait for Thursday.
I work a 4-day week, which is a glorious schedule for a single mama like me. Actually, three days would be the shit but we can barely butter our bread on 4 so I'm not gonna really complain. Thursday has been my day off for the last several months. I say "day off" with a bit of a cocked eyebrow, since it's kind of a joke; I probably do more shit on Thursdays than I do any other day of the week. I put pressure on myself to cram in every errand, phone call and chore I possibly can so that I can breathe out and actually enjoy my weekend. Am I successful at this? Generally. Today I really was. But goddamn, I am steamrolled.
Here's how it went:
I am woken up with a poke poke poke in the cheek and, Mama! I didn't pee in my pull-up!!! Can I have a prize??? I want a waffle! Can I have a piggy back ride?
Slink to the kitchen to pour coffee and juice and get watermelon-flavored vitamins. melt into couch with Lil. Consider shooting myself in the face or sticking steak knives in my ears as I listen to the hateful Elmo shriek about firefighters, while I patiently wait for caffeine to filter down into every eager, open and sucking pore in my body.
Drop Lily at school, manage to avoid the principal, who is stalking me about this year's yearbook. Opt for a Starbucks. Good call. Am pleased with myself.
Clean atrociously filthy home. I like to call this pointless ritual "polishing the turd". There's only so much you can do with the flaking lead paint and scuffed floors and ancient, cracked fixtures of this crumbling pre-war apartment.
Still cleaning. Move some furniture. Am startled by very realistic-looking gray toy mouse that was hiding behind Lily's bureau.
Find several missing socks whose matches have already gone to sock heaven, so I toss them out as well. Send laundry out. Stealthily hurl at least 10 ugly stuffed animals into a garbage bag which I will sneak out to the trash room before Lily is out of school. I'm sorry, but does a 4 year old really need sixteen teddy bears? No. No, she does not. Write several witty e-mails. Make reservation for birthday dinner. Make sure they have a fully stocked bar at the restaurant (affirmative!)
Buy birthday present for a 5 year old boy. This doesn't come naturally to me, so I call my friend Jeremy to ask, "Spider man or Power Ranger?" and end up getting art supplies anyway. Spend ridiculous amount of money at small health food store around the corner because I am too lazy and unmotivated to go to the big grocery store. Oh, so what if I spent seven dollars on kale that will probably wilt in my fridge before I have a chance to eat it? Big woop. Bring home vegan broccoli quiche and eat with gusto. Probably too much gusto because I will be haunted by garlicky vegan quiche burps for the remainder of the day.
Arrive late to pick up Lily, though I've no idea how this happened. Must've gotten caught in that ipod-vacuum while walking over to the school listening to Mika. The ipod vacuum is also how I almost got hit by a cab on 5th Avenue yesterday.
Attend wildly crowded birthday party for Lily's friend Fernando. Hang out with Heather and Kara, for the first time in weeks. Hold some babies. Fernando's mom Maria has made amazingly delicious gourmet food like artichoke dip and homemade guacamole. There is manchego cheese. And wine. Which I resist drinking because a. my naturopath advised against it, and b. I am so exhausted I know I will get butt wasted and end up cross-eyed and drooling on the couch holding a baby, which just wouldn't sit right with people. Besides, I am saving up all my wine drinking and drooling for my birthday dinner. I have a conversation with a mother who tells me that she'd "just heard today" that Shawn and I had split up. I am simultaneously disgusted and flattered that my separation is the topic of conversations taking place behind my back.
Sneak fingerfuls of Costco cake off Lily's plate and gnaw on her pizza crust like a dog with a new chew-toy. Dinner.
Curl up with Lil, who smells deliciously like strawberry shampoo and baby soap and whose breath is sweet and milky. We lay in her new big girl bed and read "The Giving Tree" while I try not to cry (it always makes me cry).
Turn out lights and tell her a story about a lion named Lila who goes on a hunt in the forest to find her courage. Try not to fall asleep b/c I really want to read my book and write an entry for y'all.
That's my day. I am proud of how much I got done. The only thing I didn't get to was cleaning the monstrously nasty gerbil cage because I am ashamed to admit I might secretly wish they'd keel over from living in their own excrement.
Naw, I'm just kidding. Really. I am. Totally just kidding.
16 hours ago