96 Hours

So husband Charlie has been out of town skiing with his brother since Friday morning. That left Toddler Charlie and I to spend the whole weekend together by ourselves. The whole looooooong weekend, thanks to daycare being closed for President's Day. (Why are they closed? No one else is.) I feel somewhat guilty admitting this, but this is the longest time we've spent alone, just the two of us, with no work and school to occupy some of our time during the day. Being a stay-at-home-mom n00b, I feel like I learned a few valuable lessons this weekend.

Playdates will save your sanity. Especially when the weather sucks, like it did this weekend. Pack that calendar. Playdate here, gymboree trial pass there, Sunday night wine night with your BFF, whatever you can get. It takes the focus off the fact that YOU are the only option for a playmate.

Don't bargain with something you really want. Of course, the parenting literature would have you believe that you shouldn't bargain at all, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Yesterday morning I had every intention of keeping our morning breakfast ritual of coffee (for me) and munchkins (for us). Charlie was having issues cleaning up the cards from his matching game. He's usually a very good cleaner-upper, so I thought maybe he just needed some motivation. I told him that as soon as he cleaned up the cards we could go and get our munchkins. He didn't budge. I told him that I would help him pick them up and then we would go and get our munchkins. I threw one card in the box, he threw one card in the box, and then he dumped them both back out again. So I brought out the big guns. I told him that if he didn't clean up his cards, then we wouldn't be getting any munchkins at all, thinking that there was no way he wouldn't actually clean them up. Well he sure showed me. He didn't pick up a single card. And I had drawn the line. No coffee for me. Damn.

Relax at Your Own Risk. Last night. The last night of this adventure. 7:30, I shut the door to Charlie's room behind me. I had about 1/8 cup of peppermint ice cream left in the freezer and enough chocolate syrup to make it worth it. I also had half a bottle of wine in the fridge. I pulled the ice cream out and heard Charlie yelling that he needed to go potty. Up the stairs I went. Sat on the potty, re-diapered, back in bed, shut the door, walk downstairs. I got out the spoon and turned on the laptop. "Mama! Need new diaper!" Uggggggh. Up the stairs. Change poop diaper. Back downstairs. WHY is my foot wet? Because the cat knocked over my glass of water. It's UNDER the couch. By the time I cleaned it up, Charlie was shrieking for a drink of water. Then the potty again. Then more water. Then my ice cream melted. Should have just gone straight for the vodka.

It is really, REALLY hard to be annoyed with a toddler. Especially when it's your own. As irritated as I was after the five millionth potty trip after lights out, and as annoyed as I got when he was taking his sweetass time coming in from the car while I had to pee so bad my legs were shaking, and as horrible as the drive to gymboree was after we didn't get the munchkins, he's just being a two-year-old, and looking at him and remembering that these moments are fleeting and just won't last just makes everything else fade into obscurity. Few things are better than snuggling on the couch while watching a Yo Gabba Gabba! classic.

But even after all that, it's kind of nice to be heading off to work right now. And if feeling that way makes me sound like a crappy mother, then that's your problem.