Running Away From Home

That's me. Running away from home. Not sure whose dog that is following me, but whatever.

Today has been a very trying day. A day when I really don't feel like being a mom* - as if that's an option. And well, that seems like a good enough reason to run away.

I can remember threatening to run away when I was all of about 6 years old. Putting a pair of dainties, a deck of cards, and a handful of crackers in a bandanna, and heading out the front door ... this kind of running away was really a cry for attention. (And why is the bandanna and stick "the luggage of choice" in this situation?) I didn't get far - never really intended to - and wasn't gone long - it was a summer month, hot and humid, and I hadn't packed anything to drink ... besides, I figured I had made my point just by walking out the door. So back I went. Forgotten was the injustice that spurred me into runaway action in the first place.

This scenario replays in my childhood memories about a handful of times, and I always found it empowering to pack that little bag and walk out the door ... only to return again. I also remember that my own mom would sometimes runaway from home. With four kids, I am fairly certain she had good reason. But, here's the kicker, her running away usually went unnoticed, which infuriated her even more. After a few hours to defuse, she'd come back expecting fanfare - at the very least a hug or two - and questions like, "Where were you?" Instead she found that life continued without her as the center of our universe. A notion that should've inspired relief but was a hard pill to swallow. That is not to say that we could've survived long without her. A few hours is one thing, but much longer than that, and our world pretty much did fall apart.

Back to the monstrosity that was today. *First I should say that I am racked with guilt for admitting that I don't feel like being a mommy today. What an awful thing to think/say/blog. But it's the honest truth, so there it is. Clearly, Natalie was not herself; she is typically - with very few exceptions - a delightful, sweet baby girl. I am guessing she woke up on the wrong side of the crib (Is that even possible considering her crib is against the wall?) - about an hour and a half earlier than usual , and the day just plummeted downhill from there. My day was a constant onslaught of fussiness, mini-tantrums, and her terribly annoying cough-cry. She refused to take a bottle or eat anything besides strawberries and Veggie Booty. Any tiny glimmers of contentment lasted all of about three seconds ... except when I played the eebee DVD, a 10-minute slice of heaven in an otherwise hellish day, and Natalie got two doses. I tried, people, I really did. My mommy bag o' tricks was apparently out of commission because absolutely nothing worked. (And what's up with the freakin' kitchen sink? I swear someone keeps dumping dirty dishes in there, and I've had it!)

And so at the end of this very long day, I don't particularly care for a bubble bath, so Calgon won't be taking me away; I'll be taking myself away ... to Agrestic, where Nancy's life is so much more complicated and interesting and awful than my own! Weeds, Season 3, here I come ... thanks to Tammy for loaning me the discs and to Scott for bringing them to me - now that's service!