cranky pixels

Mother’s Day is looming in the way that only Mother’s Day can. Last year at this time I was smack dab in the middle of my first trimester, nauseous and miserable and cranky. Not So was gaming, if I recall correctly, so I spent the day nauseous, miserable, cranky and alone. And I didn’t get a card. Not that I am bitter.

This year I am considering an active boycott of the holiday, much in the way that for years I refused to celebrate my birthday. The Mother Game from Uncommon Goods could make me rethink that, however. Am I passive-agressive or overbearing? Can I make it into the will? It’s like the game of Life, only with more pink.

On another note:

Conversation between Cranky Mama and Not So Cranky Dada in the diaper bag aisle of Burlington Coat Factory:

Me: I like this diaper bag, but it’s too small.
Not So: Is it?
Me: The Skip Hop won’t fit inside. It’d be like a purse that says “Baby” on it.
Not So: (fiddling) No, see – it totally fits! (Holds up bag with Skip Hop Pronto – which is really very handy and fits in almost everything except this diaper bag – sticking awkwardly out of top.)
Me: See, but I can’t zip it up. And if I go around with my diaper bag unzipped, someone will come tell me that my baby’s ugly so they can steal my wallet.

To say that Happy Fun baby is going through a clingy phase is an understatement. Currently he is sleeping on my chest. If I set him down, he wakes up and wails. Back patting is only a temporary solution; the minute I step away his eyes pop open and the crying resumes.

Setting him down to play elicits a similar reaction. Playing? By himself? What crazy kind of baby torture is this? The irony is that he’s more mobile than ever, able to manipulate objects and move himself from place to place with ease. Not actually crawling; more creeping, with a side of bounce. Also, he’s all sorts of alert. His toys have become suddenly fascinating. Things to which he was utterly indifferent a mere two weeks ago can hold his attention for ten or fifteen minutes at a time. We got him these fabulous interlocking foam squares with bright alphabet shapes to use as a play mat; he loves them unreasonably, yet if one of us is not down on the floor with him? There is screaming.

He’s right on the verge of throwing tantrums. He flattens out on the floor and extends all his limbs and cries as though we’re killing him. Heart-rending – he sounds like a wounded cat – but at the same time kind of funny. I think this because I am a bad mother.

The rest of the time, Happy Fun Baby is both happy and fun. This morning I got up to go to the bathroom; I heard a yell (not an angry yell, more of a “Hey, I’m awake!”) and looked into the bedroom. The baby was up on all fours, and when he saw me his whole face cracked into a huge grin. This is what I wake up to every morning. This is why I am considering becoming a morning person.

It’s funny – I have a million and one things I need to do (school, housework, laundry, etc.) but sitting on the couch with a baby crashed out on top of me is the only one that seems to be important.

Day One: 4:00 am
Four hours of sleep. Mexico, here we come!

12:00 pm
My feet are so swollen, oh my god. When did I become the type of person whose feet swell? This never happened before I was pregnant. Never.

3:00 pm
I’m so glad my baby isn’t one of the poor kids wailing about the pressure change. So glad he likes his pacifier. Aren’t babies supposed to be hard to travel with? He’s a breeze.

4:00 pm
Dear lord it’s hot. Like breathing under a blanket. I need a nap and some water. And…that’s the line for customs? But it’s so hot! And I need a nap! Oh my god, this is hell.

On that illustrious note, our vacation began. We were spending five days at an all-inclusive resort about an hour out of Cancun, but first we had to, you know, get there.

Day Two: 10:30 am
The baby screamed all. night. long. And then I overslept – stupid time change – and the breakfast buffet is closed. I must eat or I will die. This vacation sucks.

11:00 am
Oh, the grill is open all day. That’s not so bad. And mmm, quesadillas. Who’d have thought of quesadillas for breakfast?

12:00 pm
The pool is divine. And have you seen the ocean?

5:00 pm
This vacation is awesome.

Once we got into the swing of things, the resort rocked. Happy Fun Baby took to the water like a duck to…water. Except without the feathers. And with slightly less quacking. As the days passed, my pasty white skin slowly tanned to a less pasty shade of white. I saw a shimmer in my hair that I originally thought was gray, but as it turned out was simply a blonde strand. Sun! Bleaches hair! Who’d have thunk? Not So and I got to take romantic walks along white sand beaches, listening to the crash of the surf and the wailing of the baby, and then hurried back to the air-conditioned room to drink bottles of water and try to decipher Mexican TV. And at some point I managed to finish not one but two books. Grown-up books. Books with no pictures. I am a party animal.

The ocean was so beautiful it was unreal. I’d never been to the Caribbean before, and the clear turquoise water was amazing. And warm! Oceans should always be warm. I was telling Not So, if the ocean in Santa Cruz had been warm I might have been tempted to take up surfing. And not, for example, have become a pale, moody goth. Just as an example.

So batteries = recharged, and life = good. Cranky Mama’s cranky meter is at an all-time low. Let that be a lesson to you, universe: when the going gets tough, the tough sends me to an all-inclusive resort.