If I had to stay at home with a small child all day, I would be.... drunk. Like, all the time.We arrived yesterday. We're jet lagged, and I'm having technical difficulties with my laptop, so there's really nothing for me to do during the day but parent. I've cleaned everything around me in an effort to avoid intensive Mommy & Me time, and my boyfriend will be home in a half an hour to admire his gleaming home and folded laundry. So I've unnecessarily and prematurely raised the housework bar for myself here, and am basically fucked for eternity. Good one.
Three year olds. They are their own species. I don't know which one, but I know it isn't Mine. The Kid has recently taken to "Look What I Can Do!" tricks, which basically consist of her screaming "MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM!" until she has my attention, and then I have to watch her do something not repeatable or remotely worth looking up for, like shrieking and flailing her elbow in the air simultaneously. And she does this about 300 times a day. Holy fuck. She also makes up her own songs, but doesn't get any further than the first line, which she then loudly repeats over and over and over. The last one was "EVERYBODY CLAP YOUR HANDS" sung monotonously in various keys at the top of her lungs.
It's so funny to be with her in a country where children are so doted on - she tripped on the street earlier, and five people stopped and turned around to give her a big "AWWW" in sympathy. Meanwhile, I'm still dragging her down the street by her arm, figuring she'll right herself eventually. Come on, it's cold. You're three already, pull yourself together.
I'm going to go press my face against the glass pane in the front door and wait for Alan to get home.
Three year olds. They are their own species. I don't know which one, but I know it isn't Mine. The Kid has recently taken to "Look What I Can Do!" tricks, which basically consist of her screaming "MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM!" until she has my attention, and then I have to watch her do something not repeatable or remotely worth looking up for, like shrieking and flailing her elbow in the air simultaneously. And she does this about 300 times a day. Holy fuck. She also makes up her own songs, but doesn't get any further than the first line, which she then loudly repeats over and over and over. The last one was "EVERYBODY CLAP YOUR HANDS" sung monotonously in various keys at the top of her lungs.
It's so funny to be with her in a country where children are so doted on - she tripped on the street earlier, and five people stopped and turned around to give her a big "AWWW" in sympathy. Meanwhile, I'm still dragging her down the street by her arm, figuring she'll right herself eventually. Come on, it's cold. You're three already, pull yourself together.
I'm going to go press my face against the glass pane in the front door and wait for Alan to get home.
1 comment:
I'm glad you arrived safely. I've been worrying about you since I got your itinerary. Write and tell me how the flight went when you get a chance. Have fun!!
Love,
Jackie
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