August 24, 2004

Well Helloooooo Tuesday!

I'm tired. Tired in that shampooed-the-carpet-trimmed-the-hedges-washed-the-windows-painted-the-chairs-turned-the-house-upside-down-to-prepare-for-the-influx-of-relatives-this-Friday way that totally sucks the life out of you. Naturally, it's time to cue The Boy's New Bout of Sleepless Nights. Gah. So this morning, after an hour and a half struggle at 3 get The Boy back in his own bed, I looked at the alarm clock and decided, "Screw this. We're sleeping in." Called work, smiled smugly at Hublet as he left, and promptly had an anxiety dream wherein I left The Boy at home alone to drive into Raleigh and inform the daycare that we'd be late. Yes, there's a world of dumb in that dream, and fortunately I figured it out while dreaming and was able to yell at myself (as I sat in my winter coat behind a line of cars at the daycare that wasn't quite right) to wake up, wake up WAKE UP! Woah. So now I'm even more tired, but whatever. At least The Boy was able to greet the day with a smile.

I showered while he had cereal and watched some Wiggles, then I handed him his clothes and told him to get dressed. A few minutes later, a totally naked Boy appeared at the bathroom door, and informed me he had to poop. Fine. I told him to please go ahead, and continued getting dressed. Five minutes later I went to check on him, and discovered him flushing the toilet. "Wait, son," I said. "I need to clean your bottom!"

"I already did, mommy," he replied, and it was then that I noticed the small wad of toilet paper still wedged in his nether regions, and the smudges on his hands, legs and the toilet seat. My joy was boundless. After boiling the bathroom and disinfecting The Boy, we managed to get dressed and leave the house a mere two and a half hours behind schedule. Whee!

At least HE'S well-rested. I'm a whole other story, so forgive the lack of creativity. Instead, go read this post about theory, praxis, propaganda, and how it leads to babies getting tossed out with the bathwater.

Now if Winston and Co. would just hurry up with the intellectual class war discussion, I'd be happy. I have a few thoughts on that subject myself, and since school's back in session, well, it may be time to exercise the ol' grey matter a tad. I've certainly had my fill of other types of matter for the week.

Posted by Big Arm Woman at August 24, 2004 10:41 AM

Roughly the same time, but miles westward in Nashville, a similar dream was taking place. I'd left my 7 month old son at home and was driving to his Mom's work to drop him off.

Thanks for the link to wormtalk. As a former academic now working in "the media" I enjoy your posts and the posts you link to.


Posted by: JJ at August 24, 2004 07:59 PM

A friend once told me "back in the days" that once you have kids, you put your hands in stuff that you never would have believed you would normally put your hands in. The weird thing is that you comfortably discuss it with relative strangers.

I remember one summer when our Elder Barbarian (age 2 then) would go all Code Brown on us. We'd "bag" him - take a garbage bag and put him in it up to his waist. Then we'd carry him outside (in bag), hose him down, and let him air dry. Then, the clothes would go back in the garbage bag to be taken to the washer. It minimized the house cleanup and fertilized the lawn in one fell swoop.

Posted by: Pete at August 25, 2004 10:02 AM

You could always boil the boy and disinfect the bathroom ... ;-)

Posted by: Another Damned Medievalist at August 25, 2004 06:53 PM

You need to keep this journal entry to show to Boy's Blushing Bride several years from now. It is called payback.

Posted by: Marie Freeman at August 27, 2004 11:24 AM