FISTS CLENCHED

Cynical Side of the Bed 

Some days I wake up with my fists already clenched, or is it my butt? And it seems to take hours to unclench them. Screw you carpe diem!

Have you ever been mad (not really mad, but ya know) at your child because they wake up happy, smiling, playing and being all cute, when you lost a couple hours of sleep because they were screaming at you in the middle of the night? I'm pretty sure she's mocking me. I put her down for her morning nap, and she plays cheerfully in her crib for 30 min. before giving way to slumber. Also, I'm never going to the substitute chiropractor again. I still feel all jammed up. I pick up a bag of chocolate chips that had been left on the coffee table from the night before (since I had no other dessert in the house) and think, “I might need these,” and set them back down beside my coffee.

What is it that I actually want right now? More sleep? Not really. I'm already up and sipping cold coffee. First, I think what I need is to do some yoga. I was tossing a lot last night with leg cramps and I feel like I have been hammered into the earth like a whac-a-mole. I also did something to my right wrist that cannot be explained but is a constant nagging pain whenever I pick up the baby or a pitcher of water. You see I knew exactly what I was walking (or hobbling) into when I decided to start having kids well into my 30s. Maybe I'll get a sweet cane after kid #2. The kitchen is so gross I want to cry. Actually, the thought of it is making me hyperventilate for huhhh a huhhh moment huhhhh. I open the bag of chocolate chips. They aren't even a good kind. I pop them in my mouth like a handful of pills I have no intention of counting. That's what I like to call First Breakfast. Second Breakfast is much healthier. I promise.

A few hours later I sit here again while she's in her Second Nap. As much as I'm in love with her and don't want a minute without her, it's hard not to breathe that sigh of relief once she's asleep. The external chaos has subsided leaving behind casualties such as aforementioned kitchen and now dining table and high-chair. Not to mention I have neither changed yet nor washed yesterday's now smeared make up off my face leaving me to have a pair of black-eyes. The internal chaos, however, generally remains.

I think my fists have now uncurled, and my butt cheeks now unclenched. Is it abnormal that even though I'm not drinking much these days I still think about a glass of wine by 9am? I don't want to be “lit” or anything just a little more carefree. I know plenty of sober methods for achieving this, but a glass of wine, although often followed by a headache, seems a much quicker, simpler method, less likely interrupted by a poopy diaper or now, a baby waking prematurely in tears from her nap. Standby...

Fast asleep again. I'm running out of things to say at the moment so maybe I'll conquer the kitchen because if I don't I won't be able to enjoy yoga.

Another few later I got the dishes done and laundry started but didn't have time for yoga or to actually scour the kitchen (which is actually, to me, one of the more satisfying house chores). I did manage to throw my face on since we have this thing tonight.

More time has passed and now I'm off to this thing. This thing that I'm pretty sure will involve that long awaited glass of wine. Make it red please.

Next time on TRAILING OFF: I'M TRYING TO GET MY HUSBAND TO STOP NOTICING ME