Tuesday, March 25, 2008


So I'm not exactly sure how I pictured it. Well, that's not exactly true. I pictured the birthday girl, rosy cheeked and precociously verbal toddling about the house. Beautiful, handmade decorations perfectly in place. That gorgeous 5 o clock light filtering through the dining room fortuitously at noon. No mucus. Mango lassis.

And then there is reality.

We're still a couple of days away, but the birthday girl has seen better days. Well, that's if she could see through the green gunk that's been sealing her eyes shut. Her face is a mass of snot, thanks to the tree pollen in full bloom. Then there is the double ear infection, just to round things out. Oh, and the not sleeping for about a week straight. And the teeth coming in. Happy Birthday!

The house is awash in decoupage glue and magazine clippings because I've been smoking crack in my downtime and decided that with the lowkey, family-only affair we're throwing,  baby girl needed a boat to go along with the HMS theme. Nevermind the last time I paper-mached something I was a girl scout and had adult supervision. I have been fantasizing about this boat for about three weeks. 

There is the OCD you see depicted on TV, the compulsive handwashers. The doorknob touchers. Then there is me. I create lists and blueprints and menus and party themes and narratives that will most likely never see the light of day but will on average receive about 12 hours out of the day's time from me. I was thinking the meds were supposed to help with instances like this, but in between the 3 am feedings and being thrown up on, I've been daydreaming blueprints of a boat made out of fabric scraps and wallpaper samples. 

I have been to Michaels no less than five times in the past week, oh and that's because of the cupcake tower I made. That required five trips to Michaels. And the grocery list. I've been to the grocery store everyday this week, mainly because baby girl has decided she'd like to eat her weight in blueberries daily, but because I keep going back for "research." I have rewritten the menu about 12 times. For my one year old birthday party whose guest list we kept to a severe minimum to avoid getting carried away.

Happy Birthday baby girl. Your mama is going to go up her meds now. 

1 comment:

Kristy said...

Yeah, that's just not right.