I’d forgotten.
Saturday afternoon reminded me.
I needed a nap. It wasn’t even optional, as I was nodding off in the “upright and locked” position. So I snuggled Charlotte, nibbled on her thighs (because, you know, Cute Aggression), and scratched her tummy until she dozed off. Then I curled up on the opposite side of the sectional, with a fuzzy purple blanket, hoping to catch an hour before she woke.
Music softly playing, eyes gratefully closed, consciousness ebbing away as logical thought became nonsense… when suddenly pudgy little hands steal the fleecy covers. My eyes open to Charlotte vaulting onto my head from bouncy couch cushions. “M.E.! I wake!” “Yes, Doodle Bug, I see that. “You wanna watch Daniel Tiger?” I ask.
I flip on Netflix, confident she would engage in the electronic entertainment and allow me a half hour undisturbed.
Why can’t my internal optimist EVER be right?
“M.E. I hundy.”
“No you aren’t, we just ate lunch.”
Though unable to unglue my eyelids, I still distinguish the sounds of her unzipping and rummaging through my purse. Click, clasp, smack. Then sticky fingers tapping my face, “M.E., dipstick. See?” Squinting slightly I detect, heavily smeared lipstick surrounding her mouth. She looks like a tiny Vegas showgirl.
“M.E. I need dink.”
I debate the options, knowing she probably is thirsty and also knowing I should de-clown her little face, but lamenting leaving the warmth of the purple fleece. But I do, because, you know, I love her, and she’s cute. But mostly because she won’t leave me alone until I do.
Back to the couch, toddler on the loveseat with her bottle of water, I recline and regain the warmth.
“M.E., you go nigh nigh?”
Yes, baby. You watch Daniel Tiger and let M.E.take a little nap, okay?
Seconds later her breath is warming my face, followed by her fingers poking my eyeballs.
“Charlotte, don’t poke me in the eyes, it hurts.”
“Sowwy. M.E.? M.E.? M.E?”
“Yes, baby?”
“I wuuuuv you.”
Oh my. Too much cuteness. I grab her and swing her up onto me and squeeze her for a minute. “I love you MORE!” I insist.
“I wuv you mostest!”
My heart melts for the twelfth time today. But my eyes are still begging for some semblance of sleep.
“Charlotte, would you rather listen to Annie?”
“AnNIE, AnNIE! Ya ya!”
She begins to dance in anticipation of her favorite musical score.
I flip over to the Pandora station and attempt, once again, to lie down.
She starts her sing-along with the introductory prelude. I obviously can’t sleep through this, but at least my eyes are closed. It’s a step in the right direction.
Again, I feel her hovering over my face: “M.E.? Otay?”
I peek one eye open to see her holding her water bottle. “Otay?” she asks again. I tell her yes, but she seems unsure. “M.E.? OTAY?” she queries again as she shows me her water bottle. I reiterate my approval, assuming she is asking to drink her water. Smiling, she turns the bottle over and deliberately drenches the ottoman.
Well, I DID just give her permission.
“He he he, I dup idout. I get napin and wipe idup. Otay?”
Sigh. Yes, baby. Get a napkin and wipe it up. Whatever. I let my eyes fall closed yet again as I listen to her drag a dining chair across the floor, climb up onto the counter for what turns out to be the equivalent of three trees’ worth of napkins, and toddle back to dry up the squishy ottoman.
The soft serenade of “Tomorrow” in the background now as the sweetness of sleep engulfs me.
Scene change. Charlotte mimics the choreography of the on-screen girls and whacks me in the head with a throw pillow.
Yep. It’s a Hard Knock Life.
Giving it up, I get up and dance with her. And make coffee.
“M.E., I go Mommy now?”
You betcha, baby. I strap her in for the 12-minute drive back to her house.
And, as fate would have it, she fell asleep before we pulled out of the driveway.
and not being able to escape from under the blanket that imprisoned them both, she experienced her first panic attack.
distracting you from the fact that you are paying $26.94 for a couple of burgers and a glass that contains more ice than tea.
It read, “Who would play you in the movie of your life?”
and before the name “Angelina Jolie” rolled off her tongue, her son spurted out,
Read up on epidurals and episiotomies; C-sections and vitamin K shots; vaccinations and circumcisions; fetal monitoring and forceps; meconium and mucous plugs; contractions and colostrum; dilation and doulas; VBAC and PRoM; breech babies and birth positions; posterior presentation, placentas, pitocin & postpartum depression, and for heaven’s sake, PARENTING.
strung homemade peppermint garland, wove in red & white striped ribbon, and adorned the very top with our traditional Santa hat. It was super cute!
I’m not so crazy about wrapping gifts, turkey in any form, pulling boxes out of the attic, property taxes, vacuming pine needles, “Santa Baby”, pumping gas when it’s 18 degrees, or, one of the great mysteries of life: untangling Christmas tree lights which were most definitely NOT tangled when we put them away 11 months ago…
I don’t know if you’re a fan of crackers or not, but they rank pretty high on my snack food list. Club crackers, much like eggs and toilet paper, are a staple at our house. Remember when they used to be in 2-packs in a basket on every table in every restaurant in North America, and how you would make a half-dozen sweet-&-sour cracker sandwiches waiting for your WonTon Soup to be served? 
I splurged on a sack of Pepperidge Farm Goldfish (which are price-equivalent to a 16-oz ribeye). This time I was met with enthusiasm! 
The children couldn’t tell me by name. So, again I perused the Ritz and Cheese Nips and Triscuits, and decided they must want Wheat Thins. Once home, I waved the yellow box in front of them with a satisfied smile and asked,
A few hours into the drive, somewhere around west Memphis, Kevin wanted to stretch out a bit. He started rearranging all the bags and snacks and speakers and road trip stuff in an attempt to build his nest. 
“Um…the letters on the signs get smaller???”
My kids love to pick on each other. I mean, they SAY they love each other, but they agitate until they are exasperated. 
She told him to “suck it up” and “do the work like a man” when he said something like, “Well that’s easy for you to say…
“Um, yeah. And by the way, I’m left-handed.”
she said 
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