This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

After running half a dozen errands today without a single meltdown, we decided to treat Kelsey (and ourselves) to a nice dinner out to Saga. Kelsey had a treat for us, tonight, too.

As soon as we got in the restaurant, she was captivated by two fish tanks, one filled with bright red cichlids, and the other with a lone albino Oscar. When we were seated, she started to have a fit – she wanted to return to the fish tank. She grabbed my pantleg and tried to pull me out of my seat, while low-grade hollering.

 

When she was bored with that, we came back to the table and got in our drink orders. Service was kinda slow, so that pushed the temper dominoes faster than we would have liked.

Kelsey refused to sit in her seat, and had to be on my lap. She pummeled the seat behind me, getting hunger-wired and hyper with her new toy truck. I gave her a handful of sunflower seeds to put in and take out of the truck bed, and that kept her occupied for a few minutes. By the time our soup appetizers came, she was in full crazy mode.

Out of retaliation, I’m sure, the person sitting behind me kept hitting the seat hard enough to jolt me forward a bit and Kelsey kept bouncing around. She split my soup and had a couple bites of David’s dumplings but only after loudly proclaiming NO over and over so the whole restaurant could hear of her disapproval.

 

Appetizers were gone way too soon, and boredom set in. It felt like an eternity for dinner to arrive while Kelsey bucked against me to get down to the floor (barefoot), tore apart the diaper bag, took out my wallet and started to remove its contents until I took it away. More whining and more NO.

 Finally dinner came, and she greedily snatched an Alaska roll off my plate (which is made of avocado, cucumber, and smoked salmon) and tried to take bites. When that failed, she tore it apart and ate all the ingredients, then tried to stuff the strip of seaweed and rice into her mouth and began choking. Then she spit it out in a great mess onto her lap and grabbed a second roll.

 

 Eventually I sent her to the high chair before she could destroy my entire plate. Things went well for a few minutes. She usually does great with sushi, eating all the separate ingredients with gusto. Tonight wasn’t any different for a while. Then she took way too big of a chunk of salmon, stuffed it in her mouth, realized it was too big and threw it to the floor. “There goes money,” I said. Then went a piece of David’s dumpling. Then went a handful of noodles. A chunk of rice. A strip of seaweed. Loud proclamations of NO and whining. Going boneless and trying to slide out of the highchair. And she kept pointing to the group of people seated behind us and shouting “NEIGHBORS!” over and over.

 

Kelsey demanded a sip of her juice, which was in a lidded styrofoam cup. She insisted on holding it herself, but I knew she’d tip it so I held on to it. A struggle ensued, and ended when she punched her thumb through the styrofoam at the bottom of the cup and poured freezing cold raspberry tea all over herself, the chair, and the floor. The cold made her immediately start screaming.

I whisked her out of the chair, said some things under my breath, and carried her screaming, boneless body to the bathroom where she had to be changed into the crappy diaper-bag-outfit, which was just a poorly prepared onesie that was too small for her, no pants, no shoes, and she was sticky from head to toe. When we got back to the table, David was already paying and had the leftovers boxed up. I apologized to the waitress who was stuck cleaning up the whole thing, and we slunk out with a nearly-naked baby into the chilly night.

She screamed most of the car ride home, except for the times I contorted my arms backwards to tickle her in the backseat. Got her a bath, threw her in bed, and we collapsed. Kids are the worst, man.

 





Sneaky Hate Spiral - Week-long Edition

There are frequent days of the sneaky hate spiral that like to pop up uninvited. But an entire week's worth is enough to send anyone on a bender.

The first half of the week started off with asinine amounts of bad news. That pretty much killed any chance of hope after that.

Yep.

Then one night I was slicing onions for chili with a knife that can't even cut grapes or celery, but managed to slice the tip of my finger right in the nail bed.

Then Kelsey began to have night after night of unconsolable screaming, after what I assume was a night terror. These turn her into a mini Hulk for about fifteen minutes while we desperately try to calm her down before she breaks us.

Then she runs around like a madwoman for an hour or so until we force her back to bed. Then it's over like nothing happened. Except now we need more coffee.

This morning Kelsey robbed me of three additional hours of sleep by sleep-crying a couple times and then passing out til almost 11am while I sat brooding over a cup of espresso. Then it hit me that Father's Day is this weekend (shit) so after we ate, I stuck her in a cute outfit and went to take a couple photos as a gift.

She would have none of this. Even though, by law, after just waking up at 11am she should be happy and agreeable.

After managing a few "that'll do" shots with blurry hands and feet, I pocketed the SD card to go make prints.

Getting out of the house when coexisting with a puppy and a toddler is a circus. I never understood the meaning of "herding cats" until attempting to go from preparing to leave to actually leaving in under an hour.

When everything was pushed back, put away, packed up, and the kid had shoes on, I walked out the door and the car key was missing. Went back inside and searched desks, tables, piles of paper, boxes of toys, and off came the toddler shoes. I frantically texted David, threatening his life, while Kelsey made a beeline for the bookshelf and tore down books. Then finally:

It was in the wrong pocket of the diaper bag. THANKS DAVID.

The line of traffic at the Robinson exit was half a mile long, and it was a slow crawl to Walmart, which I hate as it is but it's the only place I have the photo kiosks memorized for quick access.

All the familiar kiosks were broken. A horde of people crowded the four machines left in working order, and they're some new kind I don't know.

I ONLY WANT 9 PHOTOS, GODDAMMIT

And Kelsey gets bored.

At this point I'm frustrated enough to begin subconsciously growling like a pissed off cat. Half an hour later I paid for my nine photos and got back in the car to head to the mall. Priority number one was to get Kelsey into the playground to run off her angst. Number two was a Father's Day gift for my husband if Kelsey cooperated.

The playground was packed and roiling with children, like a cauldron of toddler soup.

WHY AREN'T THESE PEOPLE AT WORK

Kelsey ran in headfirst and managed to have fun in her two square inches of free space.

An hour later I got to order the gift, though it needed picked up at 3pm, well into nap time. Hell no I am not keeping this child awake for another two hours. So we stopped at Chick fil A on our way out so she could eat a packet of barbecue sauce, waste four chicken nuggets, and throw my fries to the floor. Upon asking for a refill of my sweet tea, I was handed unsweetened tea.

Fuck all.

Stuffed Kelsey back into the car and we waited in traffic while she howled. When we got home the tea fell over and soaked my passenger seat - the one with the gross milk stain from a similar situation - and I heard it pour through onto the floor. In the house, it continued to leak though there were no holes and the lid was on, so I did what any sane person would do:

 

I put Kelsey down for her nap and let the dogs out while she protested such an offense. The load of diapers I had put in the dryer this morning were still damp, so I hung them on the line outside. But they had to repeatedly fall from my arms and drag on the ground first since I had no basket and everything outside is covered in pollen.

 

When the dogs came back in, Kelsey was finally silent until:

 

Captain Tardfeet tripped and stumbled his way up the stairs, knocking every surface with every part of his body.

Then I sat down and considered my options. Drink an entire bottle of whiskey or draw.



New Puppy

Time lapse roughly four weeks.

I kid.

Sorta.

An Ill-Traveled Pennsylvanian's Mental Map