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February 23, 2007
Friday Shuffle - The Good Housewife Edition
I'm pleased to report that today has been a good day.
It's been awhile since we've had one of those. Seems like as soon as Clara Jane turned three, a cosmic switch was flipped and she went from being sweet, patient, and polite to being, well, Devil Toddler. I know, I know. It's because I cursed her with the name Devil Baby. We only use it when she makes this face, I swear. It's not like we address her as Devil Baby. Well, not unless she demands that we do so.
But considering the sudden change in my child's personality that started the very day she turned three (which, I don't have to remind you, is the root of 6, which is the basis of That Number Of Which We Shall Not Speak, Lest We Get Eaten By Cloven-Hooved Beasts), I'm starting to think that last weekend's helpful commenter who informed me that I was leading the devil to my child when I call her Devil Baby may be on to something.
Or maybe it's just because the kid had an exciting week filled with very little sleep and very a lot of cake and frosting. Add a nagging cold on top of it, along with a prolonged visit to her grandparents', and of course she's going to be a smidge on the beastly side.
But today's been good. I knew it was going to be good when I hadn't issued any time-outs within the first hour of being awake. That's an improvement over every single day she's been home since turning three. In fact, here we are at nearly 4 PM, totally time-out-free. The little angel's napping peacefully. Or quietly sacrificing goats. I'm not sure, and I don't really care because right now it's Mommy Time. What the kid does behind her closed door during Mommy Time is her business.
Right. Good parenting. I'm all about it.
I got a preview of the kind of behavior that's occuring at the Pudding house today when Clara Jane looked me in the eye and said, "I don't love you," and then laughed. We were having lunch at the time, and it was rather embarrassing to have my adhesioned C-section incision burst open all over the restaurant like it did, what with being told that the person I birthed for over 32 hours isn't much fond of me. While I gathered my entrails from the floor and tried to blot up the mess with brown paper napkins, Clara Jane proceeded to sing the praises of "my friend Dad", as she's started referring to B. That is, when she's not referring to him as "Our Father", like he's Jesus.
Motherhood = Martyrdom. I'm starting to understand that notion.
Shortly after being told that I'm not loved, the one who supposedly doesn't love me crawled from her chair onto my lap, and spent the next 30 minutes slowly grazing on her turkey and cheese sandwich and yogurt with her non-mama-lovin' head planted on my chest, letting me smooch her warm little blonde head as much as I wanted while I squeezed her tight.
How sickeningly darling was this display? No less than four patrons and two employees had to stop by our table and tell us how cute we were, all snuggled up and covered with yogurt and chicken noodle soup. It's hard to eat soup with 35 pounds of snuggly, non-mama-lovin' child on your lap and chest, just so you know. But she did eventually retract her statement about having no love for me.
Man, I needed that. I've been sick all week and have slacked off in every department of my life, except the sock-knitting and sleeping departments. Our house is on the market, and we're getting a bit desperate to sell and yet, I haven't had the gumption to keep it presentable. The dogs are tracking mountains of mud through the house several times a day, and all along I've just wanted to crumple into a heap in the basement and knit while everything domestic falls apart above my head. I've given into that urge twice so far. Basically, I've questioned my abilities in just about every aspect of my life.
But today. Clara Jane and I both had decent sleep last night. Our colds are better. We had time to just sit on the couch and read. We ate well (let's not mention the organic faux Oreo pile in front of me and the half-empty Cherry Coke Zero bottle next to it). I've done mountains of laundry, including one basket that I later realized was already clean. Now it's extra-clean!
We made a Trader Joe's run and bought stuff we needed, not just organic faux Oreos and reduced-fat cheese curls. Clara Jane visited the sample station and partook in lemon-ginger-echinacea juice and southwestern salmon on croustini. For a kid who's demanded a diet of nothing but cake, goldfish crackers, and chips for a week, that amazed me.
I even made the bed.
Yes, I succumbed to the lure of the $7.50 clearanced sock monkey flannel sheets at Target yesterday. How could I not? I know, because I'm 34 years old, that's why.
Let me redeem myself with that quilt at the foot of the bed. No, it's not one of mine. It was on the spare bed at my parents' house last weekend, and I threatened theft before I even knew the story behind it.
The quilt top was made by my great-grandma, who died in 1980. Granny Viv recently whipped it into a quicky quilt and gave it to my mom, telling her to do with it whatever she wanted.
"You wanna give it to me, right? Because I'm just going to steal it anyway," I told her. She told me to go ahead and take it.
If you look at the close-up of the quilt, you'll notice the chocolate brown corduroy, olive and cream twill, and bright turquoise trim (which is the same as the backing). I think one of the reasons I love it so much is because who knew that Great-Granny Velma could predict the styles Pottery Barn and Crate & Barrel would be selling for hundreds of dollars 27 years after her death.
My house is somewhat clean and updated. My child doesn't not love me. She's sleeping. I haven't heard any goat-sacrificing noises. For the first time since she turned three, we're not completely shuffled.
1. Cooling - Tori Amos
2. We Stand a Chance - Tom Petty
3. Then He Kissed Me - The Crystals
4. Smart Patrol/Mr. DNA - Devo
5. What Goes On - The Beatles
6. I Fought the Law - Bobby Fuller Four
7. Bullet the Blue Sky - U2
8. Dyslexic Heart - Paul Westerberg
9. Hot Boxin' - The Donnas
10. Way Down - Elvis
Posted by Robin at February 23, 2007 03:38 PM
Comments
Better day in the Poppy household and an ass kicking shuffle. Things are looking up, sweetie!
I want those sheets. And I really want that quilt.
Posted by: Dixie at February 23, 2007 05:11 PM
hey! just have to say that i look forward to reading your blog every day.... i love the way you tell your stories.... i'm still in college, but when i'm married and have a child, i only can hope i'll be even half as funny, nurturing, and fabulous as you!!! so glad you are feeling better, too!
Posted by: Majal at February 23, 2007 05:48 PM
I have the matching jammies for those sheets. I love the flannel sock monkeys.
Posted by: Lisa V at February 23, 2007 07:33 PM
Thanks for the shopping tip on the sheets! I have slippers with those monkeys on them!
My favorite childhood stuffed animal was a sock monkey, named, intelligently enough, Monkey. I loved my way through the first one, and still have Monkey#2 in my basement.
Tell me again why I want kids?
Posted by: allison at February 23, 2007 08:01 PM
I just want to lay on that bed and talk. Can we do that? I come from bed people and I miss you.
Posted by: pkb at February 23, 2007 09:15 PM
The day my son turned the unspeakable age, he turned surly -- it truly was like flipping a switch. I covet your comforter.
Posted by: Katya at February 24, 2007 12:00 AM
I have the pajamas and the sheets, and I like to pretend that Jeff sees only my severed head, hands, and feet when he joins me in bed.
Posted by: Angie at February 24, 2007 11:02 AM
I'm so jealous over the sock monkey sheets. So very jealous.
Posted by: Rachel at February 25, 2007 05:20 PM
