I'm blogging while I wait for Evelyn to fall asleep before I take her diapers down to the laundry room to wash. We've had a busy morning of errand-running once we ate some bananas and oatmeal and watched a little Kathy Lee and Hoda (Happy birthday to Kathy Lee! She's 59! Evelyn will never like her as much as she loves Hoda! Just like her dad!). I changed two cloth diapers without a wetbag, but made do with an old Babies'R'Us sack that was in my trunk. Whole Foods didn't have any stew meat, so the butcher recommended some organic grass-fed filets for cutting, and I went with it because it really was the best-looking meat in the display (don't you roll your eyes at me. I know when meat looks good and when it doesn't). I asked him to cut it up for me. Then I bought toddler yogurt for Evelyn. She helped me push the buggy, which had greens and heirloom tomatoes and a hunk of Parmesan.
Do I even have to say that if I saw that paragraph up there in my Facebook newsfeed, I would vomit and throw my laptop
into the street? Maybe not in that order, but there would be a reaction of unbridled disgust at the small, cliched life the poster was playing acting out.
Did I mention I was wearing her in a sling and I had on a My Morning Jacket t-shirt, cut-off shorts, and no make-up? I don't even wan to type out that I checked the dairy case just make sure they were still carrying her favorite kind of milk because I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP (trademark of Dave Barry) she only drinks this high-fat, all-natural milk from Jersey cows in Texas and a half-gallon of the stuff costs more than a gallon of regular Coleman's at Kroger. My child likes one type of milk that is sold in one place in our area.
Please send help.
No matter how beautiful and interesting (to me) and fun my life is, it makes me very tired sometimes. I let Evelyn eat crackers in her car seat. I'm going to a class on extreme couponing at our local library branch tonight. I'm going to spray the balcony for ants again. One of us will have to hose off Evelyn's high chair tray after she eats spaghetti tonight.
This is my life. I'm fully aware that it's a really, really good one. I have a husband AND a baby AND a community garden plot.
But. I am tired. I am tired of carrying Evelyn everywhere, of feeling like people at the restaurant think I'm lazy when I take Evelyn to there and they say "What have you girls done today?" and I say "This." even if I've done several dozen things in the hour before she wakes up. I am tired of not killing Cody when he says "She's getting kind of heavy! I'm tired because I had to carry her to the library and back." I am tired of people asking when we'll have another baby.
(Tip: if you are not an immediate member of my family, which means if you are not Cody, Evelyn, my parents, my siblings, my siblings' spouses, my spouse's sibling, or my mother-in-law, you don't get to ask those questions. No exceptions. But if you're really curious about when we'll have a baby, I've checked the Internet and learned that it tends to happen roughly 9ish months after conception. Science! I have also learned that you get to tell people when you're having a baby when you're good and darned ready. Etiquette!)
This post really has no point other than to say I am incredibly excited that Evelyn is spending the night with her Gil one night, and then the next night with her Gram. I love her and I'm miss her a tiny amount, but I know she'll have a great time and I plan to spend plenty of time with her today--you know, when she's not napping and I'm not at a couponing class (explain to me again why this is my life)--and on Saturday afternoon between visits so she won't be an insecure spider monkey next week.
I haven't even TOLD Cody we'll be babyless on Friday. Mom just called this morning and asked if Evelyn could come play and I barely let her finish her sentences before saying "Yes. Please." over and over while Evelyn whined in the background. I don't even care if he's going to be sad! I'm going to eat junk food that I wouldn't share with a toddler! And I'm going to do it while watching violent movies! At some point during the weekend, I'm going to Target and I won't have to pause in front of pet food bags or baby displays and I won't make eye contact with a single person if I don't feel like it because I won't be slowing down for Evelyn to stare and point while they try to get her to wave.
I will probably look at baby stuff, though.
So. I guess this is a post about how I simultaneously love my life and feel embarrassed by how I'm probably not embarrassed enough by it. Because it's a little ridiculous. And about how it goes without saying that I'm really excited to skip the baby bedtime routine and eat in peace. And how awesome grandmas are. And how you should totally make fun of people for babywearing and cloth diapering and taking breastfeeding so seriously, but not really because these are personal choices.....that are really easy to mock. Because, come on. No one's going to give you a trophy for hauling around a bag of urine-soaked cloths in your diaper bag or car.
I have to stop myself now. Those diapers aren't going to wash themselves.