Long Weekend to be Renamed “Endless Weekend”

First the good:

– Nobody I know died. Except Jesus, and he came back.

– I have the first line from my soon-to-be-written rap song. Ready? “I dive so deep I’m like baby beluga.” I had other lines too but I was spouting them (ha! get it!) in the car and now they’re gone. I’m a freestyler. I can’t be pinned down with pen and paper.

– Right now? The children are napping. Both of them. At the same time. Cue angel choir.

– So far today I have not had a recurrence of the headache I have had every day since last Tuesday. It responds well to Ibuprofen but is taking longer to go away as days go by. Yes, it is a tension headache, I know. I should be less tense! I should do relaxation exercises and meditate and spend more time lying on the floor breathing deeply.

– If you can press a muscle in the base of your skull and actually turn the headache on, like I did yesterday, it’s probably not a tumour. Yay!

– I had a great time hanging out with fellow Mizzleites on Thursday night, the night before the Long Weekend Of Ass began. It was like my own Last Supper right down to the bottomless flasks of wine.

Why was it a Long Weekend of Ass?

– Fresco. Sleep regression. Woke up at 3:30 AM Saturday morning and would not go back to sleep. Refused to nap later that day. Has been getting better, incrementally, since then.

– If Fresco doesn’t sleep, he is awake and Very Unpleasant. Think: meltdowns over whether or not you let him turn on the sink faucet. Tripping over his own feet and cutting up his hands on the cement. Barreling into the room, starting every sentence with “My turn,” and going from there. He is gale force.

– Don’t underestimate how much havoc this Unpleasant, Not Sleeping 2 year old will wreak on your own mental health. You may think you are strong enough to cope with him – after all, there are two of you adult-types! – but if you add in parental exhaustion (my own fault) and a root canal (SA’s) and the other child coming down with a cold (fuck my life) and that the weather is pissing down rain and colder than it was last December and you can’t even get a nap because… we’re boycotting naptime? Seriously? I don’t even LIKE napping at naptime. I have to be just short of putting my head in an oven to consider wasting naptime on actually napping but I knew I had to and now you are going to SHOUT THROUGH IT?

Tension headache? What?

It’s just that I have an hour, down from two hours (down from ENTIRE DAYS), to do the 45 things I want to do. If this weekend had come at the end of a stretch of good, productive weeks, it would have been cool. I could pick one of the 45 things. But the past 6 weeks around here has been non-stop bandaid, triage, bandaid, triage; every surface is not actually hazardous but not exactly clean, either and I’m not just talking about the house. My brain. It’s full of steam. I let off one short blast a day but really, what I need to do is let it all out. Short blast, short blast, short blast FUCK IT I just can’t pick one of the 45 things. I want to do them all and I want to do them all NOW and that means I need to go back in time and not have kids.

What? I can’t do that EITHER?

Listen, it’s bad. I know. I don’t think that way 99 percent of the time. Only when I haven’t had enough sleep. We were walking up the hill Saturday morning, the boys in the buggy because who wants to fight it? Not me, not today. Fresco started dozing off. Of course, he’s been up since 3:30 am. I confess, my first thought was, “NO YOU DON’T. If we don’t get to sleep, you don’t get to sleep.” Luckily there are two of us adult-types for sanity checks. Yeah. Let the kid sleep. Fine.

Reading around the twitter-facebook-blogosphere it seems like everyone else had great Easter long weekends. I just wanted ours to end so I could start looking forward to something else. Like Wednesday. I think Wednesday is the New Weekend. Mark my words.