Thursday, December 07, 2006

About Last Night

7:00 PM: Long day of playdates and girl gossip. Feeling as if whole body is already asleep. Toddler is running around house, demanding attention. Call in reserves (grandma).

7:30 PM: Dinnertime! All food offerings are rejected. Turkey, potatoes and milk are on floor. Oreos are offered and enthusiastically accepted. Mom and I are discussing mensa application when child adeptly twists open Oreo. Genius.

7:45 PM: Boosted by the advanced Oreo twisting and wanting to jazz up usual night routine, we put Chloe on potty for second time in life (first time ended in hysterical tears). Grandma brings book to potty which leads me to understand why I have both the need to read on the can, and hemorrhoids. She sits for 20 minutes. Water is run to set proper mood. After flushing and waving bye bye to toilet, Chloe promptly pees on floor.

9:00 PM: On couch recovering from bedtime, removing congealed turkey from the couch, drying hair and ears. Having riveting conversation with good friend J about the pilot that will make us famous as soon as we can a) find an idea b) write something. Can I start spending that advance now, though?

10:00 PM: I somehow am watching the Real World and have eaten three Oreos. If my hair was blonde and I was wearing acid wash instead of shirt with permanent breastmilk stains I would swear it was 1989.

10:30 PM: I am in bed, angered by stiff new cheap sheets. The first money I make from this pilot will be spent on expensive Oprah-like sheets.

11:30 PM: Chloe hysterical. Polar (pronounced like "My Car") has fallen out of bed, beady eyes side down.

12:45 AM: More tears. Chloe is signing that she is hungry. How can this be? Milk is the only option I can handle. It seems to do trick.

2:15 AM: More tears. More signs for hunger. Cannot locate sippy cup and near tears with thought of assembling new one. Finally find cup in sink, empty now warm milk and start again.

4:30 AM: Crying for Daddy. Did I mention he is away? Now I am crying too. Third milk is administered. Was smart enough to leave in refrigerator. Wish I had kid that would fall asleep dutifully in my bed as special treat. Also momentarily wish it were really 1989.

4:45 AM: I can't fall back to sleep. Crippling stomach pains. Wonder if it is guilt pains from wishing for time before children who awaken in middle of night. Start to plan out clothes for tomorrow to save time as well as pilot so I can hire someone to solely wake up in middle of night and fill sippy cups.

7:00 AM: Wake up. Chloe still sleeping, latest in life to date. Call to doorman instructing not to send up nanny whose head I will rip off if she tries to engage me on conversation. Shave legs in anticipation of husband returning but also plan to punish him for leaving by not allowing him any part of legs.

7:15 AM: Chloe is really sleeping late. Start to panic. Believe that she has run away and claimed neglect due to lack of midnight snacks. Check on her. Still sleeping.

7:45 AM: Chloe awakens and seems to not be holding grudge for last night. All thoughts of selling her to gypsies vanish when her two spindly arms are reaching out for hug.

8:00 AM: Say goodbye to Chloe, Nanny and Elmo. Eat Oreo.

3 Comments:

At 6:30 PM PST, Anonymous weboy said...

You know, you may want to leave this part out of the "Have kids! It's fun!" ad campaign... it's not really a selling point (which is to say, when you hear stories like this, being childless seems not so bad...) :)

 
At 6:35 PM PST, Blogger Amy said...

Yeah Weboy - Parenthood is fattening, crows feet producing and the only bags you sport are the ones under your eyes (not Marc Jacobs). BUT - the kids think you are an in-house supermodel despite all of the above. Free fan club!
--Amy

 
At 2:37 PM PST, Anonymous sophie said...

Ha, 4.30 happens to me too. I mean the 80's feeling, infact add the 90's feeling too.

I think of a three week vacation with Rob and no Charlotte, bt I dont think I can really do that either .... three weeks?!

 

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