You just never know...
After her playdate this week, where she actually interacted with the other child instead of sitting in passive timidity like a reluctant potato on my lap, I was optimistic about SP's behavior. See, she "resists" diapering, the car seat, the high chair, getting dressed, eating, getting up, going to bed, blinking her eyes. Let's call it an eventful stage in her development. It's nickname is "kill me. now."
Playmate's mother said that Playmate freaks out and cries whenever her diaper has to be changed and that she only eats like three things and has public meltdowns and wakes up all the time. This reassures me that my child's drama is not anomalous. I realize this but still, there's the niggling thought when she's losing it, howling and stomping over not being permitted to chew on the dog toys that this cannot be normal.
The last four or five nights she's fallen asleep without being given a bottle first and after about two to three minutes in the rocking chair. I get a snuggle. She goes to sleep. I put her in the crib. All good...okay till she wakes up several times and I cave and eventually put her back in bed with us because I have to sleep. She is still on the fence about allowing me to shower/eat/speak on the phone but I can deal with that.
Today came the test. It had catastrophe written all over it.
Calamity was practically written on my face. Like in Sharpie.
I had to go to a home improvement store to finalize our cabinet configuration for the kitchen.
I took the SP with me. Because it wasn't going to take long. Because my understanding of home building, planning and design is abysmal and wildly inaccurate. And because karma thinks this shit is very funny sometimes.
I had thought that I could pick out the color I liked (maple) and say "please give me cabinets. I want the hole for the sink to go under the window so that would be great if you can do that." See, this process involves computer aided design, diagrams, measurements (all things that mean nothing to my spatially impaired thinking processes), and many many many small but seemingly vital decisions. It entails spending multiple hours in the company of an individual who feels her design degree qualifies her to be the boss of me. I very nearly let her win by getting snooty with her but I resisted, mainly by wandering off in a deranged manner whilst she wasted time flirting with another sales associate.
So, to make it brief, the kitchen's going to be wonderful. There will be bookshelves in the island to hold my many cookbooks. I will have a little cubby on the counter behind a cabinet door for my mixer. It's called an appliance garage and I feel like i should drive my mixer in there on a teeny motorcycle. There is significant Diva excitement.
This is the happy result of my child's four hour sojourn at the home store.
The kid was an angel today.
I however bitched, moaned and lamented constantly.
She frolicked among the aisles, waved to other children, played peekaboo amid a large display of interior doors that was like a very well placed out of the way playground for her and was generally polite and delightful. She was charming. I took pictures. She only dragged one small item off a shelf and when I replaced it she moved on, untroubled by my interference.
I was astounded. I kept telling her what a good girl she was, how patient and brave and fun. Then I bought her a little book that makes noises when you push buttons on it. If you pro-rate the cost per hour she was in the store I got off very cheaply indeed.