It's 11:20 p.m. I've been home from the gym almost an hour. I'm baking peanut butter cup cookies, drinking a beer, watching Jimi demonstrate his new workout stretchy band things.
This is not an average night in the Fowler household.
I keep telling myself, "You'd probably see quicker results from your gym time if you'd stop eating cookies after working out." But then I reply with, "But I've EARNED these cookies," and it's true so the argument ends until next time and I eat the cookies and swallow every delicious bite of guilt. We don't discuss the beer anymore - we all know I'm not giving that up.
The highs and lows of parenthood continue to surprise the shit out of me regularly. Three year olds are so moody I find myself cringing at the idea of dealing with this human as she morphs into a hormonal teenager - how will we survive? She screams and yells and says, "I don't LIKE you! I don't WANT you!" She runs to her room and slams the door behind her. She hits her sister when she's not allowed to have a sucker. And then she says something like, "When I grow up, I want to be just like you Mommy, and drive my green car to Old MacDonald's and say, 'May I please have a large coffee with eight creams and sugars?'" and my heart skips a beat and melts and I just adore everything about this little creature we created who is so awesome and adorable.
The baby, the one who isn't a baby anymore, who is going to be two before Thanksgiving - the baby is the sweetest baby in the entire world, with a smile that lights up the room and the shittiest of moods. Her temperament makes you forget that it's 3 a.m. when she coos and says "Mama!" and giggles when you walk into her room because she still wakes up in the middle of the night to nurse. Every night. But she's sweet and so you forgive...until that moment when you don't give her what she wants at the moment she wants it. Then she becomes a screaming banshee beast who will scratch and claw and bite and cry until you placate her wants and desires.
That's all before 6 a.m. Every day. This shit is not for those with a weak constitution.
My new job is so fabulous and amazing and wonderful. I love my job. I love the people I work with, I love the work I'm doing, I love my boss. We can take our dogs to work. My bonus paid my car payment last month.
Now it's after midnight. I have heartburn. I need to go to bed.
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Please don't make me cry.