Shanamadele’s Coffee Break
Pet Peeve #162Archive for this quotidian life
See the end of that tunnel up ahead?
No train – a genuine light.
We have a family bed — all of us sleep together in a king-sized futon and have each night since Butternut was born.
About a year ago, we got a twin-sized futon to put at the end of the big bed. Our goal was to slowly move out of that room and eventually discard the king-sized futon.
Last night, Butternut declared that he wanted to sleep in his own bedroom. “Do you know what that means?” asked Pumpkin. “I will sleep for hours and hours by myself,” said Butternut. Actually, we were thinking about the part where he goes to sleep by himself and told him so. I did not tell him how my heart leapt with joy (followed by a twinge of mama guilt) at the hours of evening we might suddenly be gaining.
We’ve talked with him sporadically about having him have his own room, but this feels really out of the blue. After leaving him for about 15 minutes, Pumpkin went up to find Butternut lying still but awake in the quiet dark and sank into bed next to him after cries of “Papa, I need you.”
Still, the precedent has been set. We are progressing toward having adult time again. I am losing the closeness of his small body snuggled next to mine after hours of separation during the day. This phase of separating from our son is bittersweet.
The new normal
5 a.m. Get up. Find clothes to wear. Wash a few dishes, pick up clutter in public living areas.
5:30 a.m. Shower, dress, etc.
6:10 a.m. Make smoothie, coffee, pack lunch
6:30 a.m. blow hair dry
6:40 a.m. Leave house to pick up van pool
6:50 a.m. Drive van to work.
7:50 a.m. Analyze, argue, read, consider, discuss (10 %). Oh, and meet and write memos (40 %). Also, put out fires (50%).
noon Over lunch, hit the interwebs or head to yoga, if not continuing with 7:50 a.m. pursuits.
1 p.m. See 7:50 a.m. Repeat.
5 p.m. Leave for van
5:10 p.m. Ride home – hit the interwebs or read or fail to escape chatty van rider.
6:15 p.m. Eat dinner with family. Endure tantrums, enjoy giggles, clean up. Possibly go for a short walk.
7:30 p.m. Begin bedtime routine.
9 p.m. End bedtime routine. Good night: climb sleepily out of bed and clean dishes, fold laundry, pick up house, clean until 10 p.m. Most nights: fall asleep and fall woefully behind.
Rinse, repeat. Weekend variations include longer walks with kid during the day, play dates, playground visits and menu planning and grocery shopping. W00t.
Honestly
I have been unable to write.
Some of this is structural. I started a new job that not only means I am away from home from 7 a.m. to 6 p.m., but that I don’t dare touch my work computer for personal stuff. It’s theoretically aloud, but discouraged by the management and union alike.
When I haven’t been working, I have been helping my son through this new transition. I have also been helping my friend, whose mother just died after six-plus years living with a stage-four cervical cancer diagnosis. I say helping my friend, but it’s really just a form of helping myself. I’m sad. Running around like a nut doing things helps me feel less sad and gives me the allusion of being in control.
But some of this is because of the big feelings involved. Feelings I don’t know how to express or even if I want to express them.
That’s all for tonight. Maybe more later. Or not.
Deep, Petty Sigh
Today, Butternut got invited to the birthday party of another child in his daycare. I think it’s the first birthday party he’s been invited to (aside from two for children of close friends).
We’re not going to go, and I feel like a big stick in the mud, but….
The party is being held at a local amusement park in two weeks. Participants must pay to attend — $14.25 per person to ride unlimited attractions, so if the kid won’t ride alone, you’re ponying up $28.50 to attend some three year olds birthday party, and that’s without a present.
So tacky.
If it rains, they will move the party to Chuck E. Cheese. (You know, I just hoped for a couple more years before we got an invite to the Chuck E Cheese tot casino.) Pumpkin refuses to go to a party for a 3 year old there.
It’s a dilemma. I like the kid, and I think Butternut does, too, as much as any 2.5 year old likes any other kid. I want to be a fun parent. But, man, I would just never, ever do this to other parents. Like, okay, I might marginally be interested if they were paying. I might drag myself to a party where there is no pretense of interaction because that was want the parents wanted to do for their child if they were willing to pay for it.
This is one of those fundamental friendship dilemmas, I think. It’s not the kid’s fault the parents are tacky. He probably won’t really notice if Butternut isn’t there. We can easily just say that we are so sorry but we are unavailable to join them without any explanation. Hell, I’ll even buy the kid a present, because I like the kid and I think it’s sweet that we were invited. But I feel bad because I am keeping Butternut from this party that he might enjoy even if I don’t approve or value it. Plus, I know that this isn’t going to be the last time that we get an invitation like that, and at some point everyone is going to notice.
I’m interested, Gentle Reader, in your thoughts.
Music, a cool breeze, and Wow!
Will you please remind me the next time I’m here at 4 in the morning posting about my fragile mental state to step away from the computer, strap on some opera and ride?
Feeling much better now, and all it took was one bike trip. There’s a lesson in here somewhere.
