The 1st night I sat at the dinner table, watching my midgets eat their food and realized that NO ONE on this planet could ever find such an act as amazing, adorable and intoxicating as my husband would. NO ONE. Not grandma & grandpa, not auntie or uncle or cousin or best friend in the whole entire world. This act (and most other mundane and inconsequential acts) is one that can only truly be appreciated by the co-creator. It just took him leaving for a few days for me to realize this out loud. I can now see why it is so hard for couples with kids to split up. Who are they going to talk to about the silly shit that the kid says? Who are they going to tell that the kid projectile vomited all over the dog? Who are they going to tell that the child dropped trow in the middle of Home Depot to try out a commode? They can talk to their friend Erin but will he/she really care? No. And should "friend" care? No! That is not how this was designed.
On Saturday night after both were in bed, my gal decided to take up coming out of her room 350 times for various, frivolous reasons. I had decided to treat myself to a dinner of a HUGE bowl of popcorn, a beer and a movie...The Soloist. Which in my opinion should have been titled "The SLOW-loist." Now maybe this movie review roots from the fact that I was being interrupted every 30 seconds by the miniature coming downstairs to ruin my romantic self-date, causing me to pause the damn film 12 times but I think I might be giving the movie too much credit. Truth be known I think The Little smelled the homemade popcorn and was trying to catch me with my hand in the bowl, so to speak. If she would have busted me with this fine delicacy and found that I had popped it after she was put to bed I think we would have had a Linda Blair moment. But at one point she came down and said she had to use the facilities for a lengthy journey. I knew she would be awhile. Every time she embarks, she asks me to sit in the hall "crisscross applesauce" and keep her company on her mission. The popcorn was getting cold and the beer was getting warm. "Dinner" was waiting for me and she was holding up the train. So I told her I would be back in a few minutes. Being that she was "stranded" she couldn't very well chase after me and I stood the chance of actually getting a few handfuls of my creation in me before it was no longer fit for consumption and the beer would have to be put in the freezer. So I resumed play for a few minutes, ate the popcorn like Lard A$$ ate pies in Stand By Me and guzzled enough to wash down the kernels before I went back upstairs.
When I got back to my seated position in the hall I was riddled with questions as though I was on the witness stand. "Where were you? What did you go get? What were you doing downstairs?" I think she was on to me. Normally I have no problem covering these bases. This night was different. I had contraband. For a moment I thought she was Desi Arnaz and I was just waiting for the "Luuuuucy!!!! You got some 'splaining to doooo!" I somehow dodged the bullet and managed to put her off long enough to where she realized I was Fort Knox and I wasn't going to break. The conversation ended with "Hey, I don't need to tell you every last thing that I do!" Suddenly I felt like a teenager in my parents house again, smarting off about my whereabouts. You ARE still my daughter, right? We haven't somehow oddly switched roles already, have we? Did I somehow hit the "time machine" button? SUPER trippy! Every so often she would ask me again and I would just blow it off. It was driving her nuts not to know what I was up to. I was given a small glimpse into the mind of this girl. She may very well be just as neurotic, if not more so, than I am! YIKES! She may be just like mom, having to know every last f-ing detail of everyday life. Then I thought perhaps I had been divulging too much of my comings and goings with her and maybe that needed to stop. My parents spoke in German if they didn't want us to hear shit around our house. They didn't share any of the goods with us. Maybe I just need to take up a new language! Rosetta Stone, here I come!
So once we got her all cleaned up and back in bed, I ran downstairs to down what was left of my meal. Not 5 minutes later I hear footsteps. I had to head her off at the pass so she wouldn't come downstairs to see my carpet party. We are now making way to the 4th trip up the stairs to do such and I looked up at her and said "Hey, Mommy needs some time alone too! Will you PLEASE just go back to bed so I can be alone?" Again, parents house, time machine...weird!!!!
That was the last I had heard from her. Got to bed at 10. Boy was up at 12:30, girl came standing bed-side at 3AM to scare the living shit out of me. There is just something about being home alone when you are not used to it and having a short stack standing next to you, waking you out of your somewhat lofty sleep. And how do you impress upon a 3 year old that when she wakes mommy in the middle of the night like that it removes 5 years from her life and causes an almost immediate trip to the laundry to clean the sheets that have been soiled?
The next day was spent running errands and such. We took a trip to the local dollar joint to buy some pointless toys that would no doubt be breaking within the hour but this is about the only time I give them carte blanche to go crazy and pick whatever they want. (Big spender, I know!) As a side note, the fe-mini's birthday is less than a month away. Firstly, I made a HUGE mistake in telling her this over the weekend. She now asks me EVERY morning if it is her birthday today. Secondly, since she will be 4 and the "gum rule" around our house is that you have to be four years old to eat gum she is chomping at the bit for this adult privilege. She, in turn, thinks that because she is turning 4 and will be able to indulge that she should have her own personal gum ball machine! She also has requested 4 presents because, clearly, when you turn 4 you get 4 presents. I figure this is a fair transaction. But now I am fretting about where the hell I am going to find an inexpensive gum ball machine as I am sure something of this nature is considered "vintage," will cost me $150 and will be used exactly FOUR times! I'm not really looking forward to such. Cruising through the dollar store aisles, what do I find? A GUM BALL MACHINE! Granted it will probably only last the four turns that I have predicted but I will go buy a whole box of them at that price.
So now I am forced with the challenge of cleverly hiding what I am about to purchase. This is a lot harder than it sounds. All the while, fielding her questions of "Mom, what is that? What do you have in your hand? What are you buying? What did you just put in that shopping bag?" Duuuude! Enough! So she decides from the box that it isn't gum balls but balloons--awesome! Crisis diverted. Since I am buying something having to do with balloons she decides that we should pretend that it is my birthday and chooses a ginormous birthday party hat as her treat for the day. I didn't really think that she would take it to the extent of actually needing to pretend-have-a-party. We get home and put Boy Wonder down for a nap and she starts in on the pretend birthday party. She insists, "Ya mom, now that Chase is sleeping we can have your birthday party. You can go get the balloon thing you bought at the store and we can start. Go get it mom. Go get it!" $hit! "Ummm, well I can't exactly do that." "But why not?" and this starts what can only be described as a grander inquisition than of the previous evening's: "What the hell were you doing downstairs?" line of questioning. After I had come out with my most creative stuff to which she had rebuttals for each, I finally told her that it MIGHT be a surprise for her birthday and that was why I couldn't bring it down to play with. A moment of joy crossed her face in the knowledge that she would get a prize. She asked once more "Is tomorrow my birthday?" When I answered this question that joyful face turned to ultimate sadness and distress. She started crying uncontrollably. At this age, 3 weeks might as well be 3 years. She has no concept of time and really doesn't care--if it's later than tomorrow she is out of sorts. She began sobbing hysterically and buried her face in my lap crying, "I can't take it!!!! I can't wait that long for my birthday. It's just sooo hard! I don't want a surprise. I want to have it noooooow!" WOW! I was soo not expecting this litany of backlash. I guess we need to re-teach that whole Immediate Gratification chapter as clearly it hasn't stuck. And again, I see the mirror being held to my face as I am the first to absolutely lose it with surprises. I hate them. Good or bad, doesn't matter. They make me crazy...well, crazier than usual. I was the kid who unwrapped and re-wrapped Christmas presents weeks before because the suspense was literally eating me alive. Even as an adult I'd just rather not know that I am getting anything at all. Honestly, it is jostling emotions in my tummy right now just thinking about it. UGH! So this whole thing left me not only feeling like a turd for even telling her that her big day was on the horizon but also like a child for not having my own emotions in check regarding the same. Luckily being that my feelings on surprises mirror hers it did make it easier for me to empathize with the situation and somewhere in there I found the right words to soothe her. She found the courage to get through the day and has even managed to stop asking about the magic balloon machine. I know she hasn't forgotten about it, but if she is anything like me she has conjured a way to convince her brain that she never knew about it to begin with.
The moment came for Hubba to get home and I sat with the kids looking out the window from the couch positioned right below it. We were little birds waiting. When we saw his headlights pull in the driveway I think we all collectively might have peed a little. I was so thrilled to have my partner back in the mix. And they were beside themselves with excitement to see their daddy once again. As my gal says, we were a "complete family." This trip made me truly appreciate how special and beautiful (and unfortunately, somewhat rare) our situation is. I feel so lucky to be a part of such a wonderful, quirky little unit. I guess I just feel lucky to have love. As a kid, I always kinda thought I would but never in a million years did I think or imagine that it would be like this. The trip actually made me enjoy Valentine's Day and really and truly feel happy to show my "Valentine's" how much I loved them--not just go through the motions of the Hallmark Holiday doing cheesy crap because you are somehow obligated by society to do so. It was just the perfect opportunity to be able to show the love and feel it. Perhaps coincidental that the holiday came the following day, but either way I was happy to take the reigns and run. Yet another holiday that has been brought back to life for me because of the advent of my family. I love the fact that life is always showing us new things, new ways to look at things, new ways to appreciate things. I suppose THESE are the surprises I do like! :)
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