I'm sitting in Starbucks, hard at work on a whole load of important stuff--grad class syllabus! major funding application!--for a meeting tomorrow. Yes, it's 10:00 pm and definitely my bedtime, but my old friend insomnia wanted to have a heart-to-heart from 2:30 am to about 6 this morning, so I'm keeping grad student hours.
I'm at Starbucks, like I said, and on the stereo: U2's 'Gloria', which I used to listen to when working late at night in a total panic when I was in high school. 1988 and 2008 ... conflate.
It's not a bad feeling, actually.
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At daycare last Wednesday, as I hustled Munchkin into daycare at the early hour of 10:30 (hey! she's been sleeping in! and eating huge breakfasts! and we take the bus!), my daycare nemesis, B shouted down the hall: "Geez, Louise, could you BE any scrawnier?"
Um, yeah probably I could. Thanks for asking!
Today, I worked from home, so that I could compensate for my princely 4 hours of sleep by taking a nap. Around 4:30, I put on some shorts and sneakers and a clean t-shirt and a leather belt and poured some ice water into a sippy cup and put some graham crackers in my bag: I was happy that I could pick up Munchkin in some play clothes, and with provisions, so we could horse around on our way to the bus.
(You know where this is going, right?)
When I sat on the edge of the daycare sandbox and allowed Munchkin to pour sand over my toes as she nestled her filthy-dirty cookie-covered self into my lap, wrapped in my squeezing arms, B asked: "Do you dress like that to go to work?" [awkward pause] "I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that ... just, it must be nice."
???
People, she was wearing the same friggin' outfit as me.
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Munchkin is getting linguistically very clever. She's been bossy and whiny and tantrummy in all the ways that Two ought to be, and I would be lying if I said the sound of her voice doesn't sometimes grate on my soul. For instance, yesterday morning, her father and I decided we were going to find a new squirrel family for her to live with. Hey, it kept her busy on our walk to Starbucks, looking for her new furry, twitchy family.
Anyhow.
Friday morning, we were eating breakfast and the whining was out of control. I stood up and put my face close to hers. "Munchkin. Listen to Mommy. Look in my eyes. That. Is. Enough. No more whining. That. Is. Enough."
She was abashed. She looked at me quietly. I held her gaze for a moment and sat back down to my breakfast. I arranged my yogurt in front of me and picked up my the Local section.
And then: "Mommy? That. Is. Enough reading the newspaper. No more newspaper."
Uh-oh.
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What did I grill? Why, sweet potato fries in a honey-mustard glaze, thanks for asking!
The cell phone is for timing the grilling, and the meat-looking stuff is some chicken for the menfolk (bottom three strips) and some fake chicken for me and Munchkin (two up at the top)
And what do you drink with that? Why, a blenderized (virgin) strawberry daquiri with bendy straw, of course!
Monday, July 14, 2008
Assorted nonsense
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16 comments:
I recently heard shouted my way, "Mommy, PLEASE!!!!!"
...as in please no more whiny, talking, whatever exasperated context I happened to use it in.
My little man shouts, "Top it mommy!" And then roars like a tiger. Two.Is.Fun.
BTW - I wish to be scrawnie. I once was and now am not. But it's not about me is it? Yup. I'd say loud-mouth daycare lady is just wee bit miffed at the gorgeous Mimi. For being gorgeous and all.
Mmm, grilled sweet potato fries.
And yick. I'm so glad not to have a daycare nemesis of my own. (It does sound like she's got some envy issues going on, though.)
Not to worry you or anything but my husband recently inadvertently taught my 4yo daughter to shout, "Shut it!" As in shut your friggin mouth, we're tired of your whining.
Oh wait, it was me who really taught her that -- since I laughed hysterically when she repeated it! Ah, the ill-timed laugh. You pay and pay for that.
So evidently daycare employees don't expect gratuities, huh? I always find service providers (ie this woman whom you support with your daycare fees) have a better attitude when there is a tip on the line.
Linus will tell me "mummy, stop talking," and Stewie will say, simply, "mummy, go 'way." Oh yes they do.
You know, when other women comment on your skinniness like that, what it ACTUALLY means is that they feel bad about their own weight and want to hear that you have tapeworms or something.
It's kind of hilariously abashing to hear your own words come out of your kid's mouth, isn't it?
B sounds envious.
I tell my girls that they need to talk to me in a way that makes me WANT to hear them.
Crazymumma -- good trick! I tell Munchkin that I 'can't understand' her whiny voice and that she should use her big girl voice and I will be glad to help her.
B sounds like she's a little green when it comes to you for some reason...
And I HATE whining. Hate it hate it hate it. BUt I don't know how to make it stop.
oh my - we had the same "stop whining please" conversation two days ago - what is it with 2.75? And your nemesis is NUTTY - how do you not slap her silly?
Am dreading daycare for an entirely NEW reason now!
I just found you through Her Bad Mother, did the survey, read some archives and wanted to say hi...and great blog:)
Oh and come over anytime to grill me up some veggie fare. Yum.
If you find a way to stop the whining I am moving in and taking lessons...not to dissuade you but being two is only part of the problem. I am thought many a time that a nice squirrel family would be just the ticket.
Hey, I'll take scrawny any day. I would smile and say "Thank You! I was going for scrawny!!"
I, personally, have used the phrase "I will not listen to the whining any more" rather more often than I would like.
Mmm... strawberry daiquiri.
I combat whining with an insistence that I can't HEAR whining, which forces her back into normal range if she wants any attention, let alone what she is trying to ask for. Just in case that helps.
And wtf with the daycare lady? Why would she feel a need to comment on you? Perhaps because you are adorable and she feels not so much so? still, keep your neuroses to yourself, lady. Sheesh. Ignore her. Or, if you're like me, give her one of those stares that communicate all the things you'd like to say about how you just don't get her and she is beyond rude and not worth commenting on.
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