2005-03-06 - 11:30 a.m.
OK. So the tally for Auntie and Uncle Watch the Kids day was:
one bloody lip
2 bonked noggins (separate incidents)
one pulled muscle (mine)
one smashed toe (also mine)
Two poopy diapers
Two poopy potty chair incidents.
Children all alive when mom came home.
I fell asleep at 9:30.
I will admit, as much of a non kid person as I am, there is something so terribly sweet about a little one snuggling their head on your shoulder. The baby actually fell asleep while she was eating her lunch. I unbuckled her and took her up to bed, her little self just dead weight on my shoulder, and it was sweet.
But it is also so not the life for me. Oh, I can do diapers and feed them and I know how to kiss a boo boo and hug and love. I just don't wanna. I think playing with kids is just....mind numbing. I know that the repetitive stuff is how they learn, I know playing is their JOB, I know all the developmental stuff. I just find it boring. I don't want to play store. Or house. And I saw how easy it would be to plunk your kid down in front of a video and have two sweet hours of relative peace. The three year old would have watched tv all day long.
Husband did a good job, even he left EVERY bathroom related job to me. He played checkers and tic tac toe with the 6 year old, which the boy got a kick out of.
I snapped at the three year old, who is just the most adorable thing, and I still feel bad about it. I was changing the baby, who had a messy diaper, and was trying to get her all changed and wiped and cleaned up without her foot winding up in the mess, etc. So B comes running up yelling "let me see, let me see", and started climbing on the changing table. "Get DOWN".
It just came out. Like a reflex. The poor child looked like I'd slapped her. Tears started coming and she sobbed "I. Want. My. MommyYYYYYY". (Yeah, I do too, kid....) I felt TERRIBLE. I still do. I finished the baby, put her down, then tended to B. Got her special blankies from the basement (this would be when the muscle pulling and toe smashing took place...trying to step over the baby gate....), and I held her for awhile. She seemed ok, but I STILL feel awful.
I can't imagine how snapish I would be if I had have my own kids. Ugh. I'd need to start a therapy fund, not a college fund. And if I got a kid who had some special needs, or some kind of patience trying disorder? Fuggedaboutit. I'd be turned into CPS in no time.
And I'm trying to not feel like a bad person because of that. I mean, I'm a WOMAN, I'm supposed to be all maternal and ooey gooey, with infinite patience and love, right?
And potty chairs? JUST about as gross as diapers.
We got home last night, grateful for the relative peace provided by three cats, had chinese take out, and I was zonked on the couch shortly after 9. It was a long day.
Had sad news today, too. checking my email and found a note from my friend, J the Artist. Links to a news story from Selma AL. A mutual friend with ties to the station was murdered there this week. He trained me for my very first shift at the radio station, and I worked for him for a time at a small AM daytimer in a nearby redneck town. I will never forget the time he and I went to the post office together in said town. No Black people live in the county, and that's no accident. So here I was, 21 year old woman, hopping outta the truck driven by a Black man, walking to the post office together. The LOOOOOOKS we got. I was mildly outraged, because I didn't see what the deal was, why anyone should have looked twice. Bill was from a fairly prominent Selma family. His fingers were disfigured from some kind of racial incident in which they'd been broken. He was a good guy. Damn, but he was a good guy. He had people sleeping at the radio station when they didn't have any place else to be. Just. Dayum. He'd moved back to Selma to run a move theater, and that's where he was killed. They think robbery was a motive. I hope they catch the guy. Because he killed the man who would have given him a job and found him a place to stay and given him all the help he was willing to work for.
RIP, William B. Dinkins Jr. And thank you.
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