I had an all-around crappy weekend. Which really sucks because I look forward to the weekends all week long. Starting with my cup of Monday morning tea up until I mentally check out at 3pm on Friday and start reading online recipes claiming the title of World's Best Pot Roast on my phone, which I place on my keyboard so I can conveniently pretend to be staring at my computer if someone walks by.
Ah, The Weekend! It sounds so magical and enchanting. So full of promise and freedom. It beckons images of sleeping in (until 7am when Ryan cries because Jacob won't let him play with a lego), marvelous time-consuming meals (which turn quickly into hot dogs and frozen fries when I realize that all my dishes are in a dirty pile in the sink), adventurous outings with the kids (that more resemble a Jerry Springer show being filmed before a live audience in the middle of the Children's Museum), and fun date nights (which actually end up as movie nights on the couch in three-day old sweats because we used all our childcare options during the week and we are tired from all those impromptu Jerry Springer shows).
Even though the fantasy of the Weekend rarely lives up to its hype, I still look forward to it. Plus, I'll take movie night on the couch over legal research and I'd chose a shouting match with my five year old over a lecture from a client.... any day!
So, Friday night our family all gathered back at home and bunkered down for a nice relaxing evening. I was so looking forward to that date night at the fabulous Living Room Theater, complete with microfiber seats and a complimentary lap-kitten (my cat, not my husband). Ryan was sick, he had been coughing and congested all day. So I put him down to bed early. As soon as Jake was in bed and I found my coveted spot on the couch, I heard Ryan scream/crying. And he cried. And cried. And cried. All. Night. Long.
He was tired but his cold and cough were keeping him awake. He couldn't get comfortable anywhere. He flipped and flopped and twisted and turned all over me, the couch, his bed, my bed. He was a fish out of water. He was so uncomfortable. All he could do was cry. And cry he did. Until 4:30am. A couple times he drifted off to sleep, only with incessant rocking (and we don't have a rocking chair). But he would always wake again after 15 minutes. He refused to be anywhere but in someone's arms. I lost my cool. Several times. I was dead tired and crabby and minus one, much anticipated movie night.
I'm pretty sure I googled "swine flu symptoms" at least 14 times. And talked myself off the ledge of going to the Urgent Care at least 6 times.
Poor, pathetic creature. (Sleeping: this was a rare activity)
We all finally slept at 4:30am. For two hours. Then Ryan was awake again at 6:30am. Let's just say this was an ominous start to the day. The entire next day, Ryan cried whenever I put him down. As you can guess, there was a lot of crying. Sorry but a girl has to pee. And cook meals (boil hot dogs). And change her underwear. And get a glass of water. And sometimes...a girl desperately just needs to be alone.
Saturday night was not much fun and involved more lost sleep. Sunday....another full day of being stuck on the couch holding Ryan. I was so crabby. I couldn't do anything to make Ryan happy. He would ask for something, I would give it to him and he would scream, "DON'T WANT IT!" Over and over and over. He wouldn't eat (aside from three bowsl of popcorn). Wouldn't play. Wouldn't even watch TV (wow, must be really sick). And the whole ordeal made me lose my patience and my cool with Jacob several times, poor guy. Not only did he not get any attention, when we did give him attention, we were like angry drunks with bloodshot eyes screaming nonsensical obscenities.
Crying because I would not let him go outside with Daddy.
"Shoes Mama! SHOES! PEEEEES!?"
NOT eating his lunch. But attacking it with an egg beater.
None of my weekend plans involved being glued to a damn couch. So as I sat in misery, rocking an upset child and scolding the other, I was very much aware that I was losing at life. I could feel myself aging on that couch as precious minutes of my weekend slipped silently away and a fine mixture of baby snot and drool accumulated on my arms. I was angry at my weekend which made me angry at my kids which made me angry at myself.
I also had to take down Christmas decorations today (during Ryan's unusual one-hour-long happy mood). This probably added to my crabbiness. I hate when Christmas is over.
Wow, my house looks gigantic without a tree.
Pine needles everywhere.
Now it's Sunday night and I've tried to put Ryan to bed five times. Each time ended with him getting out of bed, pounding on his bedroom door crying "Out Mama! Out! Dada, want out! Jake-Jake open door!" It made my blood boil and broke my heart all at the same time. Even now, he is sleeping on my lap as I type one-handed. I'm afraid to move him lest I wake the beast again.
(*Update, I put him in his bed. He woke up screaming*)
So, I;m happily saying goodbye to this crappy weekend as I sit and dwell at all my angriness over the past 48 hours (which is making me more angry). No fun outings, no fun movie dates, no fun meals, no adventures, no rest, no "me" time. Ugh. I need all these things to regroup for another five days of carpooling kids, getting up early, forced socialization (I'm an introvert) and sitting behind a desk looking at letters that string into words, sentences, paragraphs, and virtual pages.
The highlight of the entire weekend was probably the 15 minutes I spent researching strippers for my sister's bachelorette party.
Oh well, there is always next weekend....right? Yeah, next weekend will be marvelous and enchanting. Oh, I can't wait!
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