What a fun holiday weekend. One of my very, very best friends in the whole world came to spend a few days in Drewville - it's sort of like Margaritaville only with less margarita and more Star Wars figures. Katie is single and childless and there came a moment when I was certain she was going to do bodily harm to me or possibly herself for being dragged into the fray. Drew is a handful and it becomes even more obvious when we have guests...or maybe I just become more aware of it.
Before I met Eric and decided I.Had.To.Procreate. I was the girl voted least likely to be impregnated. It drove me batshit crazy to be around small, sticky, wailing children. I had a very good friend that had four kids and as much as I loved/love those kiddos and as quickly as I would have jumped in front of a bus for those little stinkers I was still regularly driven to the liquer cabinet after mere moments of entering the room with them.
The most amazing thing to me was how my friend could ignore them. Not ignore in an "oh crap I forgot to feed them" kind of way, but more of a "that is the 87th time in five minutes she said that and I can no longer hear her" way. She and I would have a conversation and the entire time one of the kids would be crawling on her, pulling on her clothes, asking her a question, bringing her things to open/close/look at, etc and she never missed a beat in the conversation. In the end it was pointless since I missed the whole conversation because I was too fascinated by the Mom-auto-pilot to hear what she was saying.
Now that I am the proud Mama of a very active almost five-year old it seems I have developed that same talent. Only, my powers are weakened when others enter my orbit. I can totally keep track when it is just me and Eric, but I can't seem to stay focused with others. I get distracted because I can see the look on my friend's face as I open the juice, open the wrapper, change the channel, start the movie, pause the movie, tell him where the stuffed horse is and put the cap on the marker. My conversations probably sound like some kind of bizarre performance art and all that is missing is a haze of cigarette smoke and enormous cups of cappuccino.
"Yes, Katie, my job is going great and I really like it there. I said to keep the fingerpaints in the kitchen."
"Oh yeah. Eric is still playing hockey and his team is doing so much better this season. No more caffiene this close to bedtime."
"I really wish you would move here, Katie, because we would have so much fun hanging out together all the time. You are big enough to wipe your own butt."
I think Katie went back to Portland with a newly invigorated love of her childless existence and a strong desire for a long nap. Between the copious amounts we drank during our Alcoholiday and the constant whirlwind that is Drew I am pretty certain we wore poor Katie out.
I do have to say though - I love being a Mom even if it does make my existence a bit crazy. I heard a rumor that crazy is the new black.