Monday, February 23, 2009

Still recovering

I meant to write something here last week. Something more than, "I was pulling for Melissa Leo." (See last night's twittering during the Oscars. Or don't. You didn't miss much.) Frankly, though, I didn't have much to say. It would have been a lot of, "Still rounding. Attending is still touching people. Oh look, he just pried a woman's eyes open and said, Heya. How you doin' in there little lady? Now, he's bopping her on the nose with his finger."

Who the hell wants to read about that for seven days?

By the way, that woman woke up when the new attending came on service this week, lending credence to my theory that some of these people are choosing coma over talking to Patch Adams. If I thought it would work, I would have tried it myself on Wednesday.

The weekend was a little more exciting. My sisters came on Friday night and brought Logyn for my birthday. Last year, she slept on my chest the whole time they were here. This year, not so much. Logyn woke up at 6:00 on Saturday morning, and she was in a constant state of motion until her afternoon nap. You know how when you're really tired, you can sleep for hours but wake up to the feeling that you've only had your eyes closed for minutes? That's what her nap was like. She slept for two hours and, to me, it felt like ten minutes.

And, you know how when you go out to a restaurant without any kids, you wonder why the hell parents let their toddlers riddle the floor underneath the table with soggy bits of food? (Or is that just me?) Well...we went out to lunch on Saturday afternoon, and when we got up to leave the restaurant, I realized that they were going to have to rip up the carpet where we sat. Apparently, most of those crackers hadn't actually been going into Logyn's mouth. But, she sat quietly in that booster seat for two hours while we talked. Two whole hours. Just playing with her crackers and talking to her place mat. We had a great lunch. And honestly, I probably would have let her light the place on fire if she promised not to make too much noise while she did it.

So, now it seems as though I'm going to have to give up my righteous indignation at every parent who seems content to let their kid pepper the floor with cheerios at TGI Fridays. It's always a little sad when I have to let that go. Righteous indignation, I'll miss you.

It was a lot of fun to have the girls here, but the whole thing wore me out. They left at 6:30 on Saturday night, and I went to bed at 7:30. Went to bed for the night. I should say that I went to bed with a whole new respect for my sister, but I was too tired to respect anything but the inside of my eyelids. I did, however, wake up with a whole new respect for my sister.

Note to self...
Re: Parenting
Not enough coffee in the world to keep me upright for that.

On Sunday morning, I found little smudges on my computer and one of my younger sister's bobby pins on the kitchen counter. Logyn dancing and pointing at the singing cucumber on the screen. My younger sister coming to visit me for the first time since I moved away to college. When I do finally recover, this is what I will remember.

Tiny fingerprints.
A bobby pin.

Happy Birthday to me.


Eric said...

Hold on to that righteous indignation, I have kids and I still can't believe what parents let their children do in restaurants.
That cucumber doesn't even have lips, and just what is that asparagus holding that pencil with?

deboo said...

When it's your own kidlets, the energy is easier to muster up! (Well, not always, but that's why it's good to have TWO parents whenever possible!)

I still have righteous indignation, but it has a time and place... and now a heart. Cuz, now I and you know that parents need that time, and if it happens in a restaurant, then just tip really well - the wait staff will appreciate it, and it's worth it, right?!


Terroni said...

We did tip well.
Really well.

We come from a long line of good tippers.

Eric, I'd be lying if I said I don't worry a bit about that child's taste in music. She appears to dance with rhythm, though, and that's more than the rest of us can say.

Anonymous said...

Yeah, having a flesh-and-blood child around rather than an imaginary one is humbling.

MmeBenaut said...

Ha ha Terroni. I adore righteous indignation and kids terrify me. My younger sister with the three nearly four year old autistic daughter said to me the other day that having her has taught her so much; that she is so much more tolerant of so many things that used to irritate her. I imagine that she would be because that delightful child can make one's nerves raw inside a minute.
And, another HAPPY BIRTHDAY to you, little one.

Maria said...

I don't think I took Liv to a restaurant until she was about four. I just didn't want to be one of those parents who let their child slobber on the salt shakers and I feared I would be.

Bing actually has me on tape declaring that I would NEVER have a child. EVER. I was 29 and I said it with such conviction and passion. Of course, my hair looks spectacular and I did not have one bag under my eye. Not one. Once I had Liv, well...I went around smelling like desitin for years.

dive said...

Yay! Happy birthday, T.
Don't worry; righteous indignation soon returns.

☆Susan☆ said...

I know someone with enough righteous indignation for all of us. Also, I love the singing cucumber. You should try to see the one where they do Sherlock Holmes...

Sassy Sundry said...

I babysat my nephew with my parents on Sunday. I think it's why I haven't blogged until today.