Making Friends with Cumin

I am losing my schmidt. In a big way. I am now on day 3 of being home with The Jedi all day long, and not leaving the house, using the bathroom, cooking a meal or sleeping a wink without him. Right there. By my side. Looking at me with those big, expecting eyes, saying things like "Could I hold you?" or "Could I have somefin to eat?" or "Dragon Tails! Dragon Tails! WATCH DRAGON TAILS OR I WILL EAT YOUR SOUUULLLLLL!" Ok, maybe he doesn't say the part about eating my soul, but it is definitely implied.

I can't take it anymore. I need five minutes by myself! Preferably away from the house, but I'm flexible. Really, I am! If I could just pee by myself, I would gladly give some kind of awkward mouth love to whatever angel watched my kid long enough for me to urinate, all by myself.

It would be weird.

I talked to Cumin today. Yes, I am being totally serious. I spoke to a bottle (jar?) of Cumin. It wasn't pretty, but it was definitely weird enough to cause a .3 second break in my kids non stop attempts to kill each other with plastic lightsabers and dress up clothes, so they could stare at me all crazy like, and Tiny could ask timidly if Mommy was ok. No! Mommy is not ok. Mommy needs a drink. Mommy needs five minutes by herself. The kind of by herself where I am not sitting upstairs trying to relax by myself but I can still hear everything that is going on downstairs, as The Roomie tries to keep you all quiet and entertained, but a fight or a temper tantrum or a hissy fit inevitably breaks out anyway, and my relaxation is ruined.

I need the kind of by myself where you're NOT HERE! Or I am not wherever you are. No offense, kids. I love you dearly, which is made totally evident in lots of other posts on this very blog, where I gush about you constantly, and in the fact that you are both well fed, bathed, dressed and STILL ALIVE by the end of every day, and completely uninjured at the end of every week. Clearly, I love you. But I still need a break.

I am exhausted. I have been wearing yoga pants (possibly the same pair. Gross, I know, but whatever, laundry sucks) all week. Seriously, ALL WEEK. I put on jeans yesterday and all day I couldn't think about anything but taking them off. I haven't done my hair, worn makeup or shaved a damn thing all week either. I am just too tired. And when the only person who is going to see you is a stubborn and whiny 3 year old who likes to be near you even when you're POOPING, you kind of stop caring about how you look.

I am desperate for adult interaction. I have been texting my grown up friends probably way more than I should. I refresh my email like 36 times a day. I check my phone for new messages even though I never put it down anymore, so I would totally hear it if a message came in. I check. Just in case. I get chatty with the supermarket check out person. I get way too personal too. Yes, I have become that person. In only 3 days. Good job, Jedi, you broke me quicker than I thought.

My perception of "fun" has become totally warped. I hate the park, I am famous for how much I hate the park. I never go. It's Arizona, it's hot at the park in like March. But I went today. It was my idea. I was secretly hoping there would be other moms there I could talk to, and that Jedi would burn off like 98% of his energy and sleep the rest of the day. Neither of these two things happened, Jedi whined the whole time, I got mud all over my yoga pants which means I have to wash them now, and then a couple in their 40's showed up and started full on making out on the swings. Hardcore. Ass grabbing included. It was weird.

Hopefully I can make it through the rest of this week and get to Saturday, which is like my ONE night away from the kids, and the same night that I am supposed to go see The Hangover II with Batman. Maybe if I'm lucky, I will wake up Sunday with a hangover of my own, and I can spend the day hiding under covers with some vitamin B12 and a gallon of water. That sounds lovely. Really.