whining

I've tried really hard this week not to vent or rant or complain too loudly about being alone with my girl. Being that this is our last day of alone time and I'm still ready to burst, I think it's time to let off a bit of steam. First of all the dog. She's really making me insane. Last night was the first night since Jeff left that Eliana slept through the night. But then there was the damn dog. She paced around and whined at me and wanted to go outside and wanted to kill every squirrel, college kid, random noise that came from our busy street. She's my straw. Always. And home interrupted my first night of uninterrupted sleep. Grrrr.

Then there's the poop in the tub. This might be sort of cute and weird when you have a little tiny baby. But when your kid is counting and putting little sentences together and seems to be quite in tune with her wants and needs, why in gods good name would she poop in the tub two nights in a week. The only good thing about this scenario is that last night I managed to get out of the tub (we enjoy bathing together) before the turd hit the water. And her sick little antibiotic cacas are not exactly solid. It's totally gross. It makes me think of that stupid Alanis Morrisette song. "It's like raaaiiiiin, on your wedding day." But instead it's like, "Poooooop in your bath, after a really long day." I know a more focused potty training is on the horizon. But it's certainly not something I'm going to tackle this week.

Another lovely new development is Eliana's ability to whine. And fake cry/moan. She woke up this morning in such a whiny, needy place. She said, "Daddy? Daddy sleeping," because I told her before bed that daddy would be home tomorrow. When she saw that he wasn't in bed this super incessant, ridiculous whine kept coming from her. I was so damn sleepy, my eyes all crusted shut, my body just craving a few more uninterrupted, quiet moments in my warm bed. I tried to get her to snuggle with me. No. Whine. I tried to bring her babies into bed. Whine. Thrash. Tried books. Nope.

Guess what got her quiet? Barney. That big, annoying purple dinosaur. And the only thing she'll eat with her Barney? Sicko goldfish crackers that I bought the other day in the store when she basically fell apart upon spotting them on the shelf. When did I become this trashy TV and junk food mama? I've never even had goldfish in the house before. I know it's not a bad food. I know that every kid loves goldfish crackers. But even when I was a kid I thought there was something totally sick about goldfish. And the next thing you know you're frantically ripping the bag open in the middle of Albertsons because it's the only thing that will enable you to get across the store to the cream isle because all you really need is goods for your coffee because coffee and wine seem to be the only things that are allowing you to get through your days alone with your kid.

And it doesn't help that everyone in Albertsons that day seemed to be over 87 or extremely special needs and/or the victims of some terrible accident where they were confined to a wheelchair. Or they were a member of a five plus child family, all the little snot faces crammed into the cart. Elie wouldn't sit in the cart and wouldn't hold my hand so I had to push my cart and lug her 22 pound self in the other arm. Then you get stuck behind one of these sad, sad cases that is moving as slow as anything and it's enough to make you feel a little insane. The Albertsons by my house brings out all sorts of issues in me. My prejudice agains poor white people. My lack of tolerance for unintelligent people. How grotesque I find certain types of Americans. There I was with my organic cream and my seventh generation diapers, a pawn in the game of corporate America along with the rest of them.

Woah. I said I wouldn't go there. But it feels so good to say all the things I'm not supposed to say, even if I'm just typing them into my computer, some goofy Barney songs setting the tone in the background.

Let's change the tone. I am incredibly lucky to have a beautiful, smart, funny child. I know it's normal that she feels needy sometimes. Of course she does. And she knows that we are alone and she just wants my attention. I also know that I have a husband who works so hard to be the best daddy he can be . He is such an integral part of our daily routine, so crucial in enabling me to teach at night or see my friends. I cannot wait to see him tonight. I can't wait to want to cook dinner again, spending time putting together healthy, savory ingredients because it's not just me. I've kinda let most of my standards go this week. I can't wait to snuggle with him, to hear him say, "Why don't you walk Lucy up the 'L'? I'll stay here and hang out with Els." Can't wait to enjoy my dog again because, she too, is a dog with her own needs.

So it's a short work day, Eliana and I don't have any play dates or plans, and we can just have a quiet afternoon until daddy brings his vanload of middle schoolers back from the Tetons and we're there waiting on the curb, arms outstretched, smiles wide.