Thursday, March 5, 2009

Blueish

I am sort of in a funk. It may be that I am reading "The Bell Jar" and finding myself relating far more than I should be. But then my reading can get me a little carried away, I mean last week I was obsessed with gender predictions and last month I was ready to join the circus, but I really do think it's more than that.

Cooper has been sick. More than a cold I fear but less than the flu. 105 degree temperatures had us rushing to the doctors office on Tuesday only for his temperature to be 98 by the time anyone saw us, sometimes Tylenol can work too well and you find yourself worrying if anyone even believes you had a sick child. He was all smiles and reading about the time Eeyore lost his tail and I felt silly for being there but wondering what else I should have done. I didn't want to be that parent that jumps at the thought of a sick child, but I also don't want to be the parent that should have known something was wrong. It can be hard, finding your parenting niche. In retrospect, I'm glad that we went and there wasn't anything worse than a cold going on. That high a temperature is scary.

I may be suffering from Cabin Fever or some lesser grade infliction. I was not happy about our first of March snow and I feel like it's been hanging around for too long. Although we only got about 8-10 inches, it's been so cold out it took much longer than normal to melt. Romp 'N Roll and playdates were cancelled. The weather man is now luring me back in with predictions of 70 degree weather this weekend and telling you I am ready for spring should be no surprise. I want to go for walks, go to Toddler Tunes as scheduled and hang the coats up in the closet for good instead of having them glare at me from their not so temporary position in the eat-in-kitchen. I want fresh vegetables and fruits. I'm ready for cookouts and bonfires. Ok, so we probably won't have bonfires, even if the weather improves, but I can dream right?

Today I based my whole morning around a playdate that was cancelled and then I moved on to planning my whole afternoon around Open Gym at Romp 'N Roll. I tried to be productive by vacuuming and putting away laundry in the hopes that my husband won't make good on his threats to trade me in for a younger, less lazy, less pregnant wife. I didn't however, take the coats from the barstools, because I figured what's the point. I'm so ready for spring. I am wondering how impossible it would really be to move to the west coast.

At Romp 'N Roll I can't help but notice that something is wrong with me. I could not be less concerned with the way I look, my lack of interest in make-up, my boring hair, my bland too-tight clothes. I wish that I knew how to be more of a girly-girl. Maybe it's best that I have more boys than girls.

The manager helps me take Bailey and Cooper to the car. She thanks me for accepting her help and not trying to be a super woman. Once upon a time I wanted to be a super woman, now all I wish for is more help and then almost instantly I feel worse. It isn't that I can't do it all on my own, it's just that every now and again it's nice to have the help.

I was going to blog about top albums and Cyndi Lauper this afternoon while the children were napping but almost instantly when I sat down at the computer I knew that wasn't what was coming. I hope to be over this funk spot in the next little while, then maybe you all can hear all about top albums and Lauper songs, but this is all I can muster up for now.

1 comment:

Sue said...

Sorry! I was just thinking the other day how I am ready for school to be out and our routine to change. Our house is a mess because I feel like all I do is work and drive my kids to one thing or another. It's frustrating.

It's hard being cooped up with toddlers, especially when you are pregnant. I'm amazed that you are brave enough to go anywhere at all.

Don't feel silly about going to the Dr. I can't tell you how many times we have gone to the Dr.(to the emergency room a couple of times) only to find out that everything is fine. Better safe than sorry.