the many (rambling) woes...

This weekend, I was a miserable person. I don’t know why, but I was feeling petulant and self-centered. I was having a weekend-long pity party, which wasn’t really fair, but there it is.

We had been invited to climb on Saturday, but we didn’t have anyone to watch Pic, so I said I’d stay home with her so Cardo could climb. Just after firming up plans, one of Cardo’s employees texted (yes, texted) him to let him know that she was sick and wouldn’t be coming in to work Saturday. Cardo called everyone else, but ended up having to give up his day off.

After he got off work, we all went for a walk as a family. I had made dinner, so we ate first. It’s almost autumn (my very, very favorite season), so daylight hours are becoming limited (not a lot, but somewhat). We only made it to one park and then for a walk.

Sunday, Cardo was out of the apartment and off to climb before I was even really awake. Pic and I cleaned, hung out a bit, took a walk (I successfully navigated our way to a park we’ve only been to once, I believe). At two-thirty, Cardo said he was heading back to our friends’ place. At three-thirty or so, he called to say he was leaving there. It’d be about an hour until he got home. Then, we’d eat and he had to go in to close last night.

[flashback here...wiggle your fingers and say "doo-dle-oodle-oo" repeatedy]

Three months after Pic was born, after I graduated, I decided that I was going to stay home with her for a year. The days were preternaturally long. Once it hit about two in the afternoon, I started couting down the hours and then the minutes until Cardo got home. Pic and I were not good constant companions – not because she’s a difficult baby, but because we were both so bored and deprived of other human contact. I was so tired that summer that I had hit something like zombie-state. I was still breastfeeding and Pic was still not sleeping through the night. She’d wake up at six or six-thirty every morning, I’d feed her and then we’d go for a walk. Every day. Then, we’d come home and kind of sit (there isn’t much actual playing with a three-month-old…by the end of that summer, though, she was becoming mobile and beginning to really play). We’d have lunch and I’d get her to nap, I’d do dishes and pick up. Sometimes, I’d nap with her. We lived in some horrible solitude. Because I was breastfeeding all of the freaking time, we always had the blinds drawn. We lived in a cave, a horrible, isolated cave.

Anyhow, this is how I was beginning to feel again this weekend. I know that this is ridiculous. It was only one weekend, but I again felt friendless and isolated. Mind you, I didn’t do much to remedy this. I always fall back on the position that everyone else is probably busy and can’t take time out to amuse me. This is probably true most of the time, but I hate that I devalue myself so much, so often.

So, the weekend is over. I’m back to the the weekly drone. I feel like I’m a part of something again. My pity party is (mostly) over.

I started writing this on Monday. I’m not revising, so I apologize if this is a mess and too rambly.

Things haven’t really started to look that much rosier. Cardo had to work an open-to-close Monday, it turned out. Also, he just returned home from work after closing on what was his day off (after working his last day off). I think he has the rest of the week figured out.

I am just hoping that these issues won’t be so prominent next semester, my last here (please, please, please). I’ll be an even more selfish and petulant person next semester. Expect the grumpy, barely-holding-it-together me next semester. For now, let us just hope that I can continue to be in a weird state of calm/denial/something.