A while back I told my BFF that all I really wanted was 30 minutes to myself. But I totally waste it sleeping or showering when I get it, so what that means is…
I totally need more than 30 minutes a day. To myself. Minus a baby. And minus a husband.
Don’t get me wrong - I absolutely ADORE my child. And I suppose, the Danish Boy… but…
OMG I want some time ALONE!
Let’s take dinner.
An average dinner is one of us eating while one entertains the baby (we’ve had a rare meal or two where she entertains herself, but alas, dinnertime is also Cranky Baby time) and while I take the baby upstairs to play or something so she doesn’t fuss, the DB stands by my chair while I eat, bouncing an increasingly unhappy baby.
Ever try to eat while your child makes unhappy grunts?
Damn near impossible.
I try to not be That Mom who tells the unfortunate father what to do… but COME ON, walk with the baby, talk to the baby, do something with the baby that IS NOT IN THE DINING ROOM! Let me eat in peace!
Let’s take last night.
Last night I scarf as fast as I can while he sits with the grumpy baby, across from me, so she can stare at me with plaintive eyes. “Mommy, this man will not entertain me! I’m bored! Hold me! I miss you and your funny faces!! Please?” And having Not Finished My Beer, I scooped her up and away. An HOUR later, I head back to the dinning room, cause you know, my Not Finished Beer remains to be finished and I’m thinking, maybe I can bounce the baby while drinking it, I’m multitalented. I rock. I’m THE MOMMY!
He’s read the newspaper.
Dammit man, I eat in 10 minutes flat so you can take an HOUR for a leisurely meal?
*** To be fair, I could also write a post about how a few nights ago the DB washed all the dishes while I was trying to feed the baby to sleep and how on Saturday mornings he often takes her for long walks so I can sleep a bit longer. I kept repeating this to myself last night so that I didn’t take a frying pan to his head. He's still alive, so I guess it works. ***