Mr. Poppins is working the weekend. So I'm all about hanging out with Secret Lulu all day, every day.
Alone.
Unassisted.
You know, without a relief pitcher.
I remember this one time, Blackstone went out of town and Diosa was alone with her two boys for a week. When Blackstone got home, Diosa gave him a kiss and headed for the nearest tavern.
Alone.
To stare at her beer.
And drink it.
I remember when Baby Doc went out of town on a meditation retreat, because he's all zen and stuff, and The Dol was home with Baby Dol, and seriously, by the time Wednesday came, midway between gone and back again, The Dol was B E S I D E H E R S E L F.
You wouldn't know it to look at her now but Baby Dol used to have colic, real terrible-like.
Pediatricians say colic isn't fatal but it's a wonder Baby Dol survived.
Oh my lord.
But Secret Lulu, she's cool and stuff, unless she's not. In which case she is
S O N O T C O O L.
Way not cool.
The police didn't come or anything but they could have. I think the neighbors were just out for the day. Something like that.
Alice says being at home all day with a toddler is just like in that book/movie "About a Boy," where the protagonist says you have to fill up the day in 30 minute increments. You can't just try to plan the whole day, it'll overwhelm you--maybe to death--you have to just take it a teensy bit at a time. Well, being home with a preschooler is a little better than that but at some point, you as a parent, might try to accomplish something, like say, organizing the toys, and if that happens the aforementioned preschooler, who happens to be a little OCD (no idea where she gets it) will freak the heck out because, hey, that drum belongs DOWNSTAIRS, not UPSTAIRS, and you as a parent must be batsh*t crazy if you think that the drum could, under any circumstances, live in the perfectly-sized space in the upstairs cupboard because there is just no way that is happening.
ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME????????
Yeah. It's like that.
And sooooooo, a day that was just rolling along perfectly--no fuss, no muss, no bother--and even included an intense bout of patio furniture pressure washing with preschool help, which is really no help at all but at least it's better than toddler help which is really more of a hindrance, well, that day is over. You are smack dab in the middle of an unholy-shriekfest.
Your only comfort is beer and posting about it while the aforementioned preschooler tries to type over you and insists, in syllable-by-syllable enunciation that "mommy, I need to do games."
And then you realize that you're loooooooo
sing and stop typing because "Mommy, I need to push the letters" and what the heck, is nothing sacred around here?
And you thank Hank someone invented bedtime and sedatives and wonder where you can score some of each.
I'd ask you to join me in a moment of silence but I don't see that happening any time soon.
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