That's what's wrong with this day -- I needed nine hours of sleep and four hours of socializing, not the other way around!
I know, nine hours of socializing probably sounds absolutely normal to many people, such as, say, everyone to whom I'm related by marriage.
Yes, I'm introverted. Why does that feel so unacceptable?
This was my day:
- Stayed up way too late the night before, clutter-busting, writing (about clutter-busting), and reading a book called Clutter Busting. Um, seriously. Okay, I have to acknowledge that that sounds utterly freakish. But is it wrong to want to purge some of the stuff that is filling our house? No, not at all.
- Woken way too early by the sounds of my beloved toddler: (a) kicking the wall beside his bed; and (b) singing. Husband is nowhere to be seen; recall tucking a blanket around his snoring body and turning off his televised sports at about ten-ish. Someone's having a long sleep, and it's not me. Force my brain into focus and hurry into our toddler's room to say good morning before: (a) he kicks a hole in the wall; or (b) he realizes that since he's no longer in a crib he could just get out of bed, open his bedroom door, and be free. Clearly (b) is the greater threat.
- Crawl into toddler-sized bed with toddler. Mercifully, toddler says, "This is a fire truck mommy. Let's sleep in it." Doesn't last long. Dress toddler.
- Husband awakes and takes toddler to kitchen. Eat. Shower. Dress.
- Invite mother-in-law to join me and toddler at park, by voicemail.
- Husband points out that mother-in-law just left for church.
- Husband departs to partake of fence-building at his brother's house.
- Play with toddler while awaiting mother-in-law's post-church response to invitation.
- 10:30: Mother-in-law accepts invitation.
- 11:45: Mother-in-law arrives. Eat. Go to park and explore amazing new children's garden at length. When nearing saturation point, toddler discovers simulated beach. Toddler nirvana. Sit on bench with mother-in-law and observe child's play. Realize that mother-in-law has a migraine. Realize that I have splitting headache. Seriously regret decision to leave sunglasses in car due to "cloudy" weather. Mother-in-law says, "Let him play." Okay... Abandon nap-time in favour of play-time. Want to play with child. Mother-in-law says, "He's fine." Okay... Finally get assertive and get out of park at about 2:30ish.
- Five minute stop at home to pick up belated birthday gift for sister-in-law, while toddler and mother-in-law wait in the driveway.
- 3:00: Drop in at sister-in-law's to: (a) deliver belated birthday gift; and (b) visit fence-building job site.
- Accept unexpected invitation to stay for supper.
- Foolishly quaff large glass of red wine, hoping that it will alleviate my headache (judgment is seriously impaired by sleep deprivation).
- Realize sadly that: (a) my headache is worse; (b) I'm starving and dehydrated; and (c) the glass of wine went straight to my head and I can't drive home any time soon.
- 7:30: Begin process of extricating toddler.
- 8:00: Arrive home.
- 9:00: Toddler in bed, an hour late. Start to read random blogs, courtesy of blogspot's "next blog". God are there ever a lot of running blogs. They make the mommy blogs look modest. And then there are the running-mommy blogs! Like the triathlete with newborn twins. At least she questions how to fit mothering into her passions(!). Sigh. Make it my personal mission to write the first running-mommy-minimalist blog as soon as I start running and home-schooling and ditch 90% of our possessions. Acknowledge that that blog is already out there, somewhere.
- 10:30: Husband arrives home from fence-building and brings me a glass of water. Realize that I feel better already. See, all I needed was some alone time! And a glass of water.