Like Looking for a Straw in the Desert

Saturday, May 06, 2006

or "Dawn is so very tired that you are going to be subjected to some wierd ass post collecting various and sundry thought"

** I am TIRED. T-I-R-E-D. Four nights of wrangling my little hellhound alone have left me devoid of any humanity. Thank you Universe for showing me again why I will never, never have another baby. Sleep deprivation makes me MEAN. Rattler mean. Wolverine Mean. Cheney Mean.

** What the hell has happened to my ability to regulate my body temperature? I freeze, I sweat. I open windows, I turn up the heat. One week after my 36th birthday and I have lost control of my body. I assume bladder control will be next. Something to look forward to.

** Hey American Girl Company - Could you make the doll boots a little less complex? Asking a deeply sleep deprived mother to wrestle zip up go-go boots on a doll is like asking for a child abuse incident.

"Mommy! Don't twist her leg - It's hurting her! No! Put her boot on, Mommy...But don't twist her leg. Zip them up mommy. She can't have unzipped boots..."

28 minutes later, with one boot on foot, I consider ripping the whole leg off and beating my child about the head and neck with it.

Seeing as one of her lines on Thursday night was "Please don't throw a bitty shoe at me", in an attempt to guilt me into letting her into my bed, I reconsider. I will however refer her back to this line when her Racy Expose on her childhood with me hits in 2022. I feel it will make a smashing book title.

** Sensing the weakness in my force, she talks NON-STOP from the time she wakes up this morning until I push her through the ballet studio door at 11 a.m. and sprint away. She demands 6 pieces of bacon. Over and Over and Over and Over. When she emerges from ballet at 12, she asks if I am taking her out for lunch.
"LUNCH?", I choke out,"You had 6 pieces of bacon!" Apparently an hour of ballet completely burns off six pieces of bacon and two eggs...and juice...and milk.

I took all my anti-depressants, right?

** I have decided to go to Best Buy after Ballet and buy myself some CD's. Emily feels this is an excellent time to broach the "Lunch" topic again. I attempt to be reasonable, and begin to suggest choices.

"Smoky Bones?"
"Bugaboo Creek"
"No!" (this one is said in a screechy voice - she's got "issues" with the moving animals)
"Honey there isn't much else around there - was there somewhere you had in mind?"

(I know - I walked right into this. But I am TIRED people. I have been beaten down. B-E-A-T-E-N.)

"How about Paddy's?
She wants Paddy's cause they have booths with televisions. I feel Meh about Paddy's on the best of days. She knows this.
"I don't want to go to Paddy's, Em"

The crying commences.

"I'm so HUN-GARY Mama, can't we go eat before you get your CD's- I'm Starrrrr-bing."
"Tell you what - I go and buy the CD's and then I'll get you MacDonald's and then we'll go home."
"Ok Mama, that's a great plan"

Why do I feel as if this was the plan the whole time?

** We enter Best Buy. I have a good idea what I want to find. I begin to head for the items. I find my CD's. We get in line. Nothing like a child to really suck the joy from shopping. As we stand in line, she begins her next line of attack.

"Can we listen to "High School Musical" in the car?"
"No, honey. Mama can't take High School Musical right now. I have quite a headache."
"PLEASE mama, PLEASE. Just a little bit of High School Musical?"
"No, Emily. I said No. How bout we listen to one of Mama's new CD's?"
She regards the contents of my basket. Bitterly.
"Which one?", she asks.
"How 'bout Gorillez?! Demon Days!" I hold the CD out for her perusal.

The older teen cashier is now grinning at me.

"NO! NO! I don't want to listen to that. I don't want Demon Days!"
"Emily, we are listening to Demon Days and you will like it. I am cranking this so loud it will make your teeth rattle. We are listening to this all the way home and if it ends, we'll play it again and again."

The cashier is now openly gaping and guffawing. I sign the debit slip.

"GOD! If the worst thing you say about me was that I forced you to listen to Demon Days, then I rank as the coolest freaking mother on earth!"

The teen cashier gives me a head nod and grin. My daughter mopes and stomps out of the store.

Save me, internet, save me. I have indeed created the tool of my destruction.

12 Baleful Regards:

Orange said...

Hee hee! Great story.

Anonymous said...

I bet sometimes you just want to zip her mouth like an American Girl go-go boot.

But I agree with Emily-- buying yourself a little peace with some McDonalds sounds like an excellent plan, and a bargain for the price.

Bobita said... have done it, once again! I am laughing so hard...that I've lost a little bit o' pee! (Perhaps, you should get a deal going with Depend Undergarments...and sell those thru your website...for those of us who laugh ourselves INCONTINENT whilst reading your blog!!!!)


Anonymous said...

mean as Cheney. that's some kinda mean, dude.

I *just* ordered Demon Days... well, okay, a few weeks ago, but I'm cheap and opted for free shipping, so I have yet to receive it. can't wait! me lovee some what's-his-name from Blur, et al. Yes, I normally know these things but it's late and I have had faarrr too much wine to remember why I'm using a computer, let alone who/what/music/blahblah.

I think McDonald's was a good choice, if only to save you from listening to the infernal whine. Peace evidently has a price - the cost of a happy meal.

Anonymous said...

I haven't been blogging all weekend, but I had to come and read this because J's been asking me about it all morning. "Didja read Dawn's post yet?" "How about now?" "You should go read it, it's really funny." So you know, my hubby's a major fan too.

This was hilarious. I can see Mimi's wheels turning sometimes as she steers me toward her "plan" for a particular day. I swear they figure out when we're at our most tired and vulnerable and use it against us.

Table4Five said...

This week was the first time my husband's gone out of town on business since the baby was born. Woman, I tip my hat to you. It is HARD not to be able to hand over the baby to him or ask him to take the boys to Home Depot so I can have some freakin' peace and quiet. We should congratulate ourselves on maintaining some semblance of sanity when parenting alone. Antidepressants, activate!

Also, have you seen the new Nintendo game system? It's no longer called "Revolution", now it's called "Wii", pronounced WHEEEE! The two i's represent individuals coming together to play the games (ack), and apparently Wii translates better into foreign languages then Revolution. I can just imagine the boys asking if they can please play the WHEEE or can I turn on the WHEEE for them. HA!

Lisa said...

I feel your pain sista. That is so going to be my child...

He asked me if I was happy like 600 times yesterday... I did a post about it.

tracey clark said...

The good news in all this? That American Girl has a hospital you can send Bitty Baby to if you happen to twist that Bitty leg just a wee-bit too far when you're pushing the boot on (or when you're shoving it up her Bitty Bum).
See you over at ClubMom...I'm doin' it too and I'm realizing I'm in pretty good ClubCompany and I'm likin' it!

Anonymous said...

You are on fire, Dawn. But luckily the Demon Dayz is bound to make everything all better. In fact listening to it twice in a row is a sure fire cure for what ails you.

Julie Marsh said...

I haven't yet been cautioned about the fragility of Bitty Baby's limbs (in our house, her name is Jackie-Dolly), but I've been instructed to keep quiet so that I don't wake her up.

That bitty shoe line is classic. The sub-title needs to be "Never aim for the head".

I'm jonesing for some new CDs myself. Any recommendations?

Mommygoth said...

Rattler mean. Wolverine Mean. Cheney Mean.

Best three lines EVER.

Anonymous said...

b/c I am tired "ditto mommygoth".

Also, I have had the issue of nightsweats (and was gonna write a post inquiring if I was the only one) and unless menopause starts early 20s, it's just something that is a pain in the ass. Like I am pretty damp/spots on my hsirt sweaty. tho i do see SOME connection (tho not all) to the sweats and nights I consume a wee bit of booze.

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