This might be the first time I posted the same piece on both blogs...the reason being that I had two and a half (three) glasses of wine and a whole Xanax last night when I started writing...
had plans to leave the house today for a reason other than to try to
get this child to sleep. She did sleep, but only during the Window.
know what I mean. There are these rare opportunities of time called
Windows, that must be used wisely, or else you end up un-showered,
unshaven and dressed in pajamas or sweats all day. These Windows are
like anomalies in the space-time continuum when you can get a very
specific task completed while the Babe is asleep--until it closes and
then you are back on her time. In my world, the Window only lasts for
about 90 minutes.
Last week in Chicago, I was blessed
with a Window. The Babe was restless and needed her nap, I had an errand
to run, so I strapped her in the stroller and rolled out. First errand
completed, but of course, this chick did NOT go to sleep, so I had to
think of a Plan B--an impromptu trip to the mall. She found her second
wind, so I let her run free around the Nordstrom until she began
circling the stroller. I let her climb aboard while I took a spin
through the food court. She was still sitting upright as I searched
around for an elevator, but just as I found it and leaned over to press
the button, the Window opened! I made a mad dash back to the hotel.
official apologies to the Planned Parenthood activist in the
wheelchair, because yes, I really do support your cause, we do give
money, but no I had NO time to talk because you were cutting into my
Window. By this time, the Babe had been asleep for maybe about 20
minutes. I needed a shower, to get the room in semi-decent shape since
the cleaning service had not come while we were gone, and time was
Yesterday as usual, the Babe was refusing to
nap and was literally spinning herself in circles fighting valiantly to
stay awake. So I loaded her into the car and with no particular
destination in mind, got ready to leave the house. The mailman saw me
and trotted up to me with a package. Bless his heart (and I do not mean
it in the snarcastic way), he hands it over and says I see you are about
to roll out with the kid, good luck Mom. I'm guessing he recognized the
exasperated I-need-tranquilizer-darts-NOW, or maybe he knows all about
creating the Window.
This might be the only
parenting advice I ever offer because I am THAT hot mess mom: the one
who barely makes it to story time even though it is a 15 minute drive
away; the one who takes her kid to the matinee where they show rated R
indie films and is not the least bit ashamed; the one who believes
cheerios eaten from the floor must have special powers. The Window is
And a word to anybody who writes one of those
mommy-war envy pieces about wishing she could stay at home and get stuff
done while her kids napped...again, one word: Window. Lady, I don't get
anything done unless I get that Window. (Except right now since I
have turned the Babe over to her father for the day). Your lovely
fantasies about immaculate homes, well-balanced dinners already prepared
from the slow cooker, Martha Stewart decorating projects, and Hallmark
card moments of hugs and kisses...yeah, right.
Let me go take a shower.