Single Mommy

Dave has been called away this week for a death in his family.  A very special aunt passed away unexpectedly and his whole family has converged to help his Mom and Dad mourn.

I really miss him.

I really, really miss him.  Really.  Miss.  Him.  Tomorrow I have a meeting in Greensboro, and I have to drop Conor off at daycare at 7:15.  It’s 8:45 pm right now and Conor has just gone to sleep and I have just poured myself a big glass of wine.  I still have to prepare Conor’s meals for tomorrow (this daycare also does not offer organic, mostly vegetarian meals either.  Go figure.).  And I have to shower and wash my hair. 

Yes, I heard all you curly girls gasp out there.  Curly women cannot wash their hair at night and expect anything more than a rat’s nest the next day.  Nonetheless, I don’t have a choice with the time we have to get up and go.  Bleah.

I also have to pick out something to wear because despite the fact that I am/was back to my pre-pregnancy weight, nothing fits anymore.  Everything has shifted places and my pants are still too tight.  (So apparently that truckload of fat was only temporarily housing my lard ass.)

Dave comes back Saturday night and not a moment too soon. 

My Son Can Walk, but He Won’t 

We are yet again facing another mobility issue with our son.  Actually, I don’t think this is an issue at all, but it’s better reading for me to say that is.  He will walk all over the place holding on to a finger.  Lightly grasping a digit, the child will explore the house from top to bottom and barely even wobble.  He’s sure footed and steady.  But he only started standing by himself a little bit last Sunday and he’s yet to voluntarily walk from one item to another. 

I mean, Dave and I are both risk averse.  I understand that he doesn’t want to fall.  But there’s risk averse and then there’s wouss!  No, I’m not calling him a wouss, but I do remember when I was young that I would learn new sports or musical instruments because I’d already mastered another and I didn’t want to look foolish.  Now, I know it doesn’t matter and I look foolish often without regard to learning new instruments or sports.  We are both pretty convinced that he is not going to walk until he can do it steadily and without that Franken-baby lurch all over the house. 

So, hut-two-three-four, you little baby!!

(Remind me of this when I’m chasing him all over the house)

There was something else I wanted to blog about tonight.  I even remember that it was going to have “mommy” in the title.  But I have no idea at this exact oxygen deprived brain cell moment what it was.  The only phrase that comes to mind right now is “Cranky Mommy” and being a psychologist, I know that phrase is more Freudian free association than anything I want to share about my parenting style. 

Ciao.  I’ve got to go make a rat’s nest of my hair for tomorrow. 

8:56:51 PM