So. Now that I am on a brief hiatus from freaking out about my dissertation, I have lots and lots of time to think about other things. Like, WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH MY LIFE OMG I NEED TO FIND A JOB BUT NOT A FULL TIME JOB CHARLIE'S STILL SO LITTLE HE NEEDS ME HOW CAN WE BE DOING THIS TO HIM WHAT IF I DIE DURING CHILDBIRTH AND NEVER GET TO SEE HIM AGAIN HE WON'T REMEMBER ME AND HE NEEEEEEEDS ME AND I'M GOING TO HAVE A PULMONARY EMBOLISM AND THEY WON'T BE ABLE TO HELP MEEEEEE. Completely rational, you see. Also, completely un-fun at three o'clock in the morning.
When Ryan comes out of the bathroom after his morning shower, he greets me with "Good morning, sweetie! Did you sleep well?" I respond "I need to find a job TODAY. And if I die will you still keep the house nice for Charlie? Dammit I need a bowl of cereal" then spend twenty-five minutes hoisting myself out of bed, picking my way gingerly down the stairs (avoiding putting any weight on my pelvis, hips, knees, ankles, or feet), and bumping around in the kitchen muttering about how damn hard does it have to be to find a damn cereal bowl and a damn spoon and why are there so many damn toys on the damn floor damn damn damn.
Then Charlie gets up and I manage to pull myself together for long enough to get him wherever he needs to go where he then helps me by affecting the Posture of Great Sorrow as soon as he realizes we are at day care and he will be staying there. The quivering lower lip, the moist eyes, the limp arms and legs. I kiss him goodbye, tell him I love him, and assure him brightly what a great day he's going to have then walk out to my car and try really hard not to cry (and usually fail).
This mommy-phase he's going through is particularly ill timed and severe. At breakfast with my parents the other day the only place he wanted to sit was straddling my belly with his head on my shoulder. At the pool yesterday after thirty minutes he got out, asked for his towel and then asked to be wrapped up and held, content to rest with his head on my shoulder on a lounge chair instead of splashing around in the baby pool. When I go in his room after a nap he pats the bed next to him and says "Mama?" so I lay down with him and he pretends to sleep. He refuses to let Ryan help him eat, instead waving the spoon in my direction pleading "Mama help? Mama help? Mama help? Mama help?"
It also doesn't make any sense. I am hardly the fun parent right now. I am grouchy and make funny noises when I try to get onto the floor to play with him. I tell him he has to wait for Ryan to come home to play outside or ride his bike because I can't handle being outside for long when it is so hot. I only let him ride the elevator once at the library. I don't let him eat the sushi samples at the grocery store that have been sitting out all day. Yesterday it finally cooled off enough to go to the pool and we stopped for a Sonic slush on the way home. Charlie was happy and relaxed, I was happy and relaxed. It was great. But then I had to use my serious voice when he kept taking the top off his drink while I was driving us home. And then he dropped the drink by mistake and grape slush was leaking out of a huge hole in the side and he was crying and I was trying to explain that I wasn't mad, it was just an accident and I would fix it, and I did--I found another cup to put the damaged cup into and gave it back to him--but he is so sensitive. When we got home he asked for hug after hug after hug and just wanted to sit with me quietly while I watched the news.
Ordinarily I would just enjoy the extra hugs and cuddles, because really, what could be better than that? But because I know that my attention is going to be split in a few weeks, it is really killing me right now.