Oh God, How Insanely BORING
Is it me, or could this column drop you head first into a coma? I'll admit to only reading parts of a few entries, so maybe the rest of them drip with the kind of biting cynicism that makes essays about parenting even remotely tolerable, but right now I can't keep reading because I have that ache in the back of your throat that you get when you've eaten an entire package of Starburst in three minutes or swallowed a teaspoon full of sugar just to see if it really would make the medicine go down.
Maybe the problem is me. After all, this blog is called Bad Mother, not "Bringing Up The Charming and Adorable Waldman-Chabon Children." That's because they're not charming and adorable, especially not at 2 AM when they're wailing, "Daddy! Daddy! Mommy, no! Mommy, no!" Or at 3:30 AM when they are still awake and practicing different ways of saying the word, "No," using tonal language as if they are little Chinese babies practicing their Mandarin. No? Nooo. NO! Naoo. Nuh! Etc. Neither are they charming and adorable when I dump them in their beds at 3:30 and lie to them, actually saying, "Abie, I'm just leaving you here for a minute. Don't worry, I'll be right back," when I have not the slightest intention of opening that door again until the little wretch’s sixteenth birthday. Nor are they charming and adorable when they wake up (a different one this time) just as I have collapsed into bed at 3:32, having deceived their brothers into going back into their cribs. Charming and adorable? Right. The better question is how can a three-year-old have such sharp little toenails, and was she awake or sleeping when she dug them into my back for the rest of the night, until I finally shoved her into her own room with strict instructions to play quietly with her Hamtaros and give me five minutes to rest. Just five minutes. Would that be so hard?
Then, of course, tonight I took the littles (as opposed to the bigs, who are in Kansas City with their grandfather, because having seen them like six times in their entire lives the logical next step was to invite them to stay for five days) out for dinner and as Abie ate one bean at a time with a very large spoon, he smiled his dopey little grin at me, with his one eyebrow, and I wanted to put him on the spoon and gobble him up, he was so damn sweet.