Whatever happened to my weekends? They used to be something I looked forward to. Time off from my sucky day job, a respite from the hells of mundania that I used to face everyday. Weekends were times when I stayed up late, slept late, and spent time having fun with my friends. No longer. These days, weekends are hell holes where I run around like a chicken with my head chopped off trying to keep up with my husband and two kids. I hate it.
This weekend was particularly bad. Friday was the last Friday of the month, which means it was also my “Day Off.” Ha! That was a joke. I keep forgetting that I don’t get days off anymore. I was under this delusion that because Cassie would be in preschool all day, I’d be able to go out and enjoy myself with only little Sam in tow. Sweet little Sam. Laid back little Sam. Mommy’s precious-angel-who-never-makes-a-peep-and-never-fusses little Sam.
What a load of BS.
We started our “day off” at the YMCA, where I did my usual physical therapy appointment, followed by a swim in the pool. Sam stayed in the Y nursery. The attendants there love Sam. She never cries, just smiles, giggles and waves her fat little hands at them. She was a perfect, jolly baby all morning, they told me. Then I came by to pick her up and all that stopped. Sam started fussing the moment we left the building. I kept hoping she’d calm down. I had things to do that day, and places to shop - Borders, Barnes and Nobles, Hot Topic, Michael’s Art and Crafts. I had coupons for every place but Hot Topic burning a hole in my pocket. I was gonna buy lots of stuff, but still save big with those coupons. I had dreams of sitting in one bookstore after another, sipping frou-frou coffee and flipping through manga and art books. It was going to be a heavenly day... but Sam wouldn’t stop fussing.
The fussing turned to wailing the moment we hit our first stop, Borders. I did my best to soothe her, holding her in my arms while I pushed the (useless) stroller one-handed around the store. Sam would quiet down for a bit then howl every time I tried to put her back in the stroller. After half an hour of this, it was clear even to me that there was no point in putting her back in the stroller. That was okay, though. I could hold my little darling and still shop. Then the spit up started.
At home, Sam is known as the Queen of Spit Up, and for a very good reason. Some people who have visited lately think we’ve repainted our walls and re-carpeted the entire house in a faintly cheese-tinted white. Not so. That’s all the handiwork (or should I say vomit-work) of little Samantha Ann. She doesn’t do projectile vomiting, yet, but that hasn't stopped her from coating the house with half-digested milk.
She proceeded to do the same to Borders. At first, I was able to contain her little eruptions to the burp cloth. Then my nice, navy blue shirt took a few hits. Then my jeans. When I heard the first splat hit the carpet in front of the computer graphics books, I knew it was time to give it up. So I grabbed the only two books I’d had a chance to look through and made my way to the cash register. I used my Borders coupons, and then sadly put away the Barnes and Nobles coupons as I headed out of the store, without even a small cup of joe as a consolation prize for my aborted trip.
The rest of the weekend went pretty much the same. We went to the Virginia State Fair, where I divided my time between breastfeeding Sam and containing her spit ups while Michael took Cassie from one ride to the next. I did get to see some very funky looking birds on display courtesy of the Virginia Pigeon and Dove Association. One bird I swear looked exactly like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. Other than that... well, I did get to experience the full wrath of Cassie’s tempter tantrum when she dropped her milkshake. Does that count as entertainment?
After an exhausting Saturday, I looked forward to a calm, quiet Sunday at home. The “at home” part was about all I got. Due to lack of planning and coordination, I spent most of the day running around trying to figure out what the hell I was supposed to be doing as Michael zipped in and out of the house with one child or another in tow. He had a plan, but hadn’t managed to share it with me, so I didn’t know whether he was coming or going and when I was supposed to be on call for Mommy duty or when he was giving me a break. So I got nothing done on Sunday.
But now it’s Monday. Cassie is at preschool. Michael is at work. Sam continues to spit up, but she’s doing it in the comfort of home. Meantime, I’m trying to get around to my next writing project. The novel, complete with the final version of the dreaded synopsis, went out the door Thursday to a publisher. I had hoped to celebrate this event last Friday, but oh well. Maybe my next day off will go a little better.
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Here’s the little bit of artwork I managed to get done this weekend, sort of a gothic creepy chick. It might be a zombie. I'm not sure. It's unfinished. The colored spots in the top are the palette I picked out for the image (no, I'm not real sure about that violet color either). I’m still experimenting with the settings for paintbrushes in Corel Photopaint, trying to create a better blending brush. It’s going to take some time. I’ll work on this one off and one until it’s finished, in between other projects.
Hmmm... kinda looks like me after this past weekend.
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