As I mentioned yesterday, energy and time have been hard to find. This makes everything a bit more difficult. Some things I just have to ignore. Like the dirt on the floor which I never got around to vacuuming or the hair-dust mixture on the bathroom vanity that I never got around to wiping off. I have to ignore this stuff so that I can take care of the really important stuff like cleaning the pee off the floor in the kids’ bathroom and feeding the children. I’ve almost given up on feeding the adults some days, which is why A) my good eating/exercise regimen has fallen by ye olde wayside the past couple of weeks, and B) Will has spent days living off of whiskey and Corn Flakes while I eat some turkey dogs on lettuce leaves and then wash it down with a glass (or two) of red wine even though it’s a Tuesday night because I feel defeated.
Additionally, my whole introvert thing has exploded due to extra time spent with little people and a complete lack of time spent alone. I long for silence. I long for about an hour where no one is talking to me or touching me.
Living with Stella on a good day is like being in a live action version of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, whereby audience participation is mandatory. The same phrase will be repeated and repeated and repeated and repeated until it is acknowledged and the appropriate response is given. Yes, Ursula is a big jerk-face. Yes, Peppa’s dress is red like yours. No, you don’t have a sled. You don’t need a rain hat because your raincoat has a hood. Yes, Hans really IS a big jerk-face, and is actually a bigger jerk-face than Marshmallow because he’s a sneaky jerk-face.
And sometimes I just don’t have a response I can offer her. This happened Sunday.
I was trying to get dressed so we could go eat gumbo for Father’s Day. Stella was keeping me company and providing her usual commentary. Lately, she’s been getting into body parts and demonstrates this with extra special narration. Yes, that’s mommy’s bra. No we don’t wave it around like a flag. Mommy has big boobies. Stella has no boobies. I tried to explain that one day she too would have boobies, but it was like I had no air in my lungs to push forth my answer. No matter. Stella pressed on.
”Mommy, you have hair on your butt.” She had noticed my pubes. I didn’t even correct her – that what she was seeing wasn’t my butt, but my girl bits. I just fled the room.
It doesn’t help that personal grooming is another thing I’ve had to ignore for a while. I figure I’m better spent whacking the extra hair from my eyebrows than… Well, no one sees that other stuff anyway. Except my daughter. Apparently.
I’ll have to explain this one day, but I need a venti Starbucks first, dammit. And maybe a pedicure.