december already

Apparently it’s December, if the calendars can be trusted. And I say, why not trust the calendars? What did they ever do to you?

My kid is inexorably, adorably inching closer to three years of age, a time when he will miraculously be capable of rational thought and self-sufficiency. I am very certain I will not be disappointed when, in a little less than two weeks, he wakes up and makes me a full English breakfast complete with espresso just the way I like it and a tiny bouquet of freshly-picked flowers. Because, three. Three will be my salvation, people.

But since he’s still two, the kid has been making the most of it, transforming from relatively easy-going (if stubborn and opinionated) toddler to Oh My God I Don’t Know How You Can Scream For So Long Without Taking A Breath (And Other Stories). We’ve got the old standbys of Meals and Bedtime, taken to new extremes (will not eat anything but granola bars! Refuses to sleep before midnight!), as well as some new and exciting triggers such as Cannot Possibly Hold Hands With Mommy If Daddy Is In The Same State and Diapers: Not For Changing. I would make a comment about the end of my rope, were I still able to remember a time when I had rope to measure.

Kids: you totally want one!

Which of course means I saw the cutest siblings out the other day, a brother and a sister around 8 and 10, horsing around at the crosswalk but then putting their arms around each other while they crossed the street. Just for a second, but long enough for me to think I want my kid to be a big brother. Because he’d be pretty awesome at it, probably. (Never mind that I couldn’t stand my sister when we were kids and we didn’t get along until she was probably 16 and I was 20…) I have to keep reminding myself of how much I loathed being pregnant and how nicely having one kid fits into our lives, because otherwise I’d be all baby crazy again and no one wants that.

And, seriously, could I handle another round of the Terrible Twos?

one toddler. price: cheap.

So I suddenly and unexpectedly found myself with the afternoon off. Hooray, I said (I’m pretty sure all-caps were employed as well), I totally needed an afternoon off, if by “off” you mean “doing laundry, replying to work emails, cleaning the house and dealing with a two and a half year old who refuses to eat.” Because, yes!

And the kid, he’s such the icing on the proverbial two year old cake. He wanted a granola bar. I suggested that mac and cheese might be more appropriate for lunch. He SCREAMED NONSTOP FOR 38 MINUTES. (Yes, I timed it.) Then took a break. Then saw me eating my mac and cheese and screamed some more. Then – finally – agreed to a pb&j…of which he consumed three bites. And then asked for a granola bar.

This is comedy gold, people.

I had grandiose dreams of taking the kid to the park, having one of those idyllic mom and baby experiences that one sees in magazines and commercials for Happy Meals, but now I’m exhausted, and cranky, and full of angst, and any park-going experience would resemble one of those other commercials, the ones involving Calgon and pleas to be taken away.

So instead I’m going to fold laundry and wish I had some vodka in the freezer while the kid (apparently) empties out every single bloody toy bin in the living room.

(Oh, what, you were expecting something funnier than this? Pfft.)

neither s nor sw

Not So is at SXSWi. I? Am not. He promises to get swag for me, though. Swag makes everything okay, even seven straight days of solo parenting.

Which is not as bad as all that, actually – Not So has been gone since Thursday morning, and today was kind of okay, as far as days go. (Note that I am skipping merrily over Thursday and Friday. This is not unintentional.) The kid and I went for a walk, did a little shopping…and before you get all eye-roll, keep in mind that my kid? LOVES to shop. Seriously. If we walk by the mall and don’t go in, he will throw himself toward the door with all his strength, wailing like we’re killing him. He is a weird kid. But yes, so, we shopped, and then we came home and he actually ate food, and then he took a marathon nap. Good day!

I had this ridiculous idea that I’d be able to get some writing done while Not So was away, but either all my writing talent has dried up or I just don’t have the wherewithal to concentrate when I am On Call. Which is…lame, right? How many single moms can produce an amazing array of matching words while toddler-wrangling? Anne Lamott comes to mind, but that’s just because of Operating Instructions; other moms do it all the time. Other moms, but not me. I feel so scattered and kind of brain-dead, and everything I’ve written in the past couple of days has been flat as week-old soda. (I do not say “pop.” This is because my parents raised me right.)(Shush, you can recognize hyperbole when you see it.)

The house, though, is quite clean, and I’ve taken two (two!) baths today, so all is not doom and gloom at chez Cranky. I miss Not So, and Ellison’s having a hard time sleeping, but we’re good. It’s taking a lot of energy for me to make progress on the projects we’ve got deadlining for work, but part of that is just that we got a new desk at the house – and, while I love it unreasonably and it totally serves its purpose (namely, to make the damned computer less of a focal point so I don’t spend my every waking moment on it), it’s not exactly conducive to marathon work sessions. Then again, neither is the toddler. Good thing we have an office!

Next year, I am totally going to SXSW, though. Even if the kid has to come with us.