Sorry for the whining last night. After I wrote that post, the night took a horrendous nosedive. Archer decided he would give me something to whine about and want to eat every 2 hours on the dot, except between 3-4:30 am, when he decided he would just squirm out of his swaddle and fuss every 20 minutes. It was painful. I had a Doctor’s appointment this morning that I was just too exhausted to go to, so I just blew it off. It was scheduled 6 months ago too. I’m such an asshole.
Things didn’t improve much today, big surprise. I had a baby attached to me 85% of the time while I physically wrangled a rogue three-year-old. Just another day!
When I spend a lot of time worrying about some big change that is about to occur, I am usually pleasantly surprised when things turn out way better than expected, like my labor induction, for example. I can’t say the same for how thing have turned out with Deven since we had Archer, unfortunately. This is one of those rare occasions when I was right to worry so much, and it’s not one of those times when it’s awesome that I get to be right. It’s not a self-fulfilling prophecy, either. I don’t think I am antagonizing my stubborn toddler just so I get to gloat. I may even have underestimated just how bad it could get, or maybe I just didn’t have a clear image in my head of the types of scenarios we’d be faced with when dealing with our insanely jealous and angry child. I am lucky for the times that Vance is there during those really ridiculous scenarios. when we can look at each other as though we are saying, “can you believe this shit?” If I didn’t have him to laugh with about it later on, none of this would work.
Tomorrow is my birthday, and I am expecting it to be like any other long, boring day, except there will be presents. And at the end of it we get to eat dinner at a restaurant. But I am not going to get to be the queen of the day and be exempt from having to dole out punishments or change tiny diapers. The last two years I have gone shopping on my birthday for clothes and other niceties, but now that I have two kids, one of them being the way he is lately, I have compiled a list of things I would rather do than go clothes shopping with my children. At the top of it is: sit at home and do nothing, followed by: do the laundry and dishes, with pulling slimy hair clogs out of the sink and bathtub, and be forced to take shelter in the rotting corpse of a camel in the Saharan desert somewhere in the middle. So no. Not this year.
What will happen is either Greek food at Zorba or a comforting dinner at the trusty Olive Garden. Haven’t decided yet.