I think, I think, I think I need a drink.
Not that I'll have one, mind. I just feel the urge to break out something overproof and slam it down in a manly fashion.Thankfully, we lack overproof anything in the house, the liquor we do have, we can't afford to replace, and I'm a strong believer in rationing the essentials. Single malt, in my world, remains an essential. (The Home Alcohol Essentials, for the record, are decent tequila, decent bourbon, good single malt, sippable rum, good gin, and Polish potato vodka. We'd stocked up pre-pregnancy, so we're in no danger of running out of these in the near future, unless we actually, well, use the stuff. Of course, with a six month old in the house, "use" has been redefined to mean a small tipple once a fortnight or so, meaning we probably won't run out of anything until she's old enough to drink.)
It remains, however, that I am tense and stressed and just want to kick back and not be a responsible adult for an hour or two. Maybe, instead of a shooter, what I really want is one of those froofy drinks with umbrellas, to be consumed while wearing something equally froofy and preferably pink.
The ducks are circling again, waiting for their chance at nibbling me to death.
I'd like to have a nervous breakdown, but I'm too busy with parenting, or laundry, or cooking, or insert task here. My body, sick of being driven past its comfort zone, is rebelling. My back is being twitchy, my hair needs a trim, and my great experiment in avoiding makeup hasn't done jack about the sad, sad state of my skin. So I went most of a week with the dark circles exposed for nothing. (On the bright side, the only people who saw me without my face on were family, and I'm sure most of them have seen me looking even worse.)
I need a break. I realize this. I just don't know how to accomplish it. In six months, I've been out of the house without the baby twice. This is partly--mostly--my own fault. I have several people who've offered to watch the girl, but I still don't feel comfortable leaving her with anyone other than the boy. The one time we got out of the house together, I left her with my mother and fretted the whole time.
posted by mohmlet @ 8:32 PM
3 Comments:
She will be okay if you get out without her, which I bet you know in an instinctual way. Can you do it for a really short jaunt, at first, like an hour, just you, at the comic book store, or the bookstore, or a Starbucks, and have someone you really trust watch her?
Those snatched moments can really make a difference, and believe me, I've been there. When our budget was really tight once, I walked Sara downtown, intending to do Starbucks just for a tea and a muffin for her. Well, the budget was *so* tight, I discovered I couldn't get money from the ATM. So I walked her until she fell asleep, and then sat on a bench and daydreamed. Even that helped.
Courage, my dear. And all kinds of sympathy, because I get exactly where you're coming from.
I'm hoping to do that next week, assuming I have enough left over from grocery shopping to allow me a small treat.
We took a very long mutual nap today, so I'm kind of recharged and feeling less fuzzy and frustrated by it all.
When we are back from L.A., I will make it a priority to kidnapp you and go out for Fun Stuff, my treat. You Are Not Allowed to Argue, So There.
And yes, I'm still good for Squeakaboo-sitting when you need.
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