Monday: Desperation

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You know, one child is no small world shaker, but two, my friends, will rock you to your core.  Three weeks and six days after the birth of my second child. and I am at the end of my rope by 10:00 AM.  The lack of sleep, the inability to take a nap because neither child will sleep at the same time, the amount of caffeine consumed in the morning just to get through, and my general bitterness in the face of not being able to easily leave the house and get in a good workout completely drains me early on.  So far, bouncing back seems to be completely elusive.  In fact, bouncing back seems like it may take months or eons.

Anyway, in an effort  to stave off complete meltdown before 9:55 AM, this morning I gave in and betook myself and two children to a low rent hell hole called Monkey Joe's.  I made a desperate decision last night after muscling everyone down to sleep that we were going to have an extreme outing today.  I would compare the twisting of my mind and the anguished list of pros and cons that I made to that of Lewis and Clark as they made the painful decision of which was more important as they loaded the iron boat on the journey home: supplies or men.  (by the way, prepare yourself for many many Lewis and Clark references as I am currently reading the biography by Stephen Ambrose)

In much the same way that Lewis and Clark made their decision, I made mine.  Though the decision pained me in the extreme: the fluorescent lights, the noise of the air machines keeping the bounce houses and jump-jumps inflated, the ballpark caliber food, and the incessant squealing and scolding.  We must go to Monkey Joe's for the good of the mission as a whole, we could not examine the preferences of only one member of the party.  It was necessary to go with the greater good of all.

I will say that though I do deeply love my eldest child, our relationship since the entrance of baby #2 has SUFFERED immensely.  Someone is no longer potty trained, has violent tantrums, refuses to stay in time out and sometimes throws things at the wall or me.  It is all most unfortunate, and I have come to realize that it is quite possible to love someone, just not really like them for what I hope is a brief period of time.

Anyway, Monkey Joe's is a huge warehouse that is sort of like a McDonald's play place that has completely cracked out.  I would argue that the food is worse (yes, I do believe that is possible.  I firmly believe that ball park nacho fare is worse that anything Ronald McDonald is hawking.)  It is loud and large and fluorescent.  All the colors are primary and the staff wear's referee uniforms.  It is typically necessary to communicate by shouting over the noise of a symphony of air compressors.  The carpet has been stained by a legion of sweaty socked children dropping the crumbs of their giant pretzels as they talk with full mouths at a dead sprint to the next bounce house.

Also, Monkey Joe's advertises itself as a place where parents can meet and visit.  The problem with this is that I am currently not fit for human company.  I am generally dirty with spit up and leaks of various kinds.  I smell like sour milk and something else I cannot put my finger on, woe maybe.  The bags under my eyes indicate my level of exhaustion and should explain why my vocabulary is similar to the grunts and gestures of a caveman, and my ability cognate is slow to the point of retardation.  I do not want to meet and visit with anyone.  All I want is to sit quietly while no one says "mommy" or cries or asks anything of me. I wanted to wear my sunglasses inside, as the fluorescent lights felt like an an ice pick to my temples.  If you saw my toenails right now, you would be frightened.  They are like a cross between a fungus and a mer-person.

Anyway, on the upside, at Monkey Joe's my nine dollar admission price bought me three solid hours where no one bothered me.  The baby slept in his car seat the whole time and my oldest child ran around in spastic circles completely entranced by the bounce houses.  I wrote thank you notes, had a tasty beverage, and returned some emails.  Once home, my oldest took an extra long nap, affording me time to deal with birth announcements and collect myself as a person.  

So yes, things got desperate, there was no workout, and no, maybe I have not showered and my own toenails frighten me.  BUT, I did get three hours of time where no one talked to me, and I improved my relationship with my oldest child who I hope will look back on his joy today and bring me a piece of pumpkin pie when I am in the home.