this big exhausted weepy baggy mentally ill cellulite unit known as mommy

I missed the official first day of summer. I had grand plans for that day, which really only included busting out the sidewalk chalk and writing SUMMER! on the driveway and then taking a picture and posting it here as a way of showing you all that yes! I am alive and cherishing the 100 degree heat! yes! I am one of those people who lives entirely in the moment! who never wishes any minute of her life away! who can take some lame sidewalk chalk from Target and use it to make a masterpiece worthy of display at the Museum of Modern Art! who is so fucking happy it's dangerously close to saccharine!

You see, I exhaled too soon. And this week, which was supposed to be about getting back to normal, all of a sudden became about Simon's first tooth coming in. And the fever. The runny nose. The crankiness. The refusal to eat. The sleepless nights. Basically a rinse and repeat of the whole month of June, which I am boycotting, by the way. I hate you, June. Forget the fact that you're my birth month, and my son's birth month. You've betrayed me, you mercurial Gemini you.

Last night was a terrible one in Simonsleepland. I mean, so terrible that at one point in the darkness I could not even see my baby's face - instead I saw a gigantic head with hollows for eyes and a mouth lurching toward me, like some kind of horror movie creature. I wish I was kidding. I had to have Roy take him away for awhile because he was freaking me out and I was crying.

If that's not a sign of sleep deprivation....

My mother-in-law came over this morning, and by that I mean Roy walked over to her house this morning and brought her over to stay with the boys while he slept the sleep of the almost dead and I left the house. I treated myself to breakfast. I ate. I read my book. I did not have to share my food. I did not have to ask the waitress for extra napkins because Charlie spilled his drink all over the floor. Then I went to the bookstore. I browsed. I flipped through magazines. I read a couple of poems. I lingered over the bargain books. I did not have to wrestle yet another Elmo book out of an insistent toddler's hands when it was time to leave. I did not have to pick up my baby and strap him to me because he was fussing about being in the stroller. Then it was time for a brief trip to the library. I got a few free (old) copies of National Geographic. Then I had to go home because Simon really, really needed me at that point.

My date with myself? Oh so needed and deserved, especially after three weeks of fever/illness/teething hell. I think I'll make this a Friday thing I do. I think I will be a little more aggressive about getting Simon to take a bottle, if for no other reason than I would like to go out with my husband to celebrate our wedding anniversary next month.

Late this afternoon, I finally got to hang out with one of my friends, her daughters, and her parents for the first time in about a month. (We have a weekly playdate.) We went swimming (Simon's first time) and had a little BBQ. Charlie stuffed his mouth full of grapes and then spit them all out, half-eaten. Charming. I danced with my friend's daughters in the living room and admired all the art around the house. The light outside was perfect as we were driving home listening to First Aid Kit. It was all very summerlike. What can I say? I love you, June.

(title graciously stolen and mercilessly bastardized from one of the wonderful works of Anne Lamott)