Unsurprisingly, the longer I am solo parenting, the harder it gets. Actually that’s not true. Some things are actually easier when I’m the only one around. Sleeptime, for example. When the kid’s tired, I put him down. If I’m tired too, we both go to sleep, in a bed that suddenly feels spacious and accommodating. I don’t need to worry about whether the lights are off or the door is locked. I don’t need to feel bad that I’m not dividing my attention. I can just…sleep.

Other things aren’t so smooth. Happy Fun Baby threw not one, not two but three marathon tantrums in the last three days, which isn’t that unusual since he’s 18 months old. What is unusual is that afterward there was no one to watch him while I took a desperately needed mental health break. Even things like taking out the garbage became a big deal: the garbage cans have temporarily been relocated to the first floor while the elevator is being upgraded, so taking out the garbage means going down two flights of stairs. Sounds simple, right? Except how do you wrangle garbage bags and a toddler? In the Ergo, that’s how, but you’d be surprised how long it took me to figure that out.

Yesterday was…challenging. We went to Saturday Market (yes, I know it was Sunday) and the kid insisted on walking so I didn’t bring the Ergo. People! Learn from my mistakes! When your child is younger than, say, twelve, you must provide an alternate method of transport! Anyway I foolishly went out with a walking kid, and it was actually fine for the first bit. We wandered, we chatted with our friend Chyna, we had some lunch at Mother’s, and then we went home. This is where the problem started. Mother’s is just far enough from the MAX that I stupidly thought “We can just walk from here.” Stupid decision #2: “Oh yeah, we need diapers! I’ll just pop into Rite Aid on the way home.” And guess who started refusing to walk after three of the nine blocks? Guess who needed to be carried? Guess who would not stand still in the drugstore even though mama had her hands full? Guess who screamed when we handed the diapers to the cashier? Those were the longest nine blocks of my life, and several times I was very tempted to just sit on the curb and set up camp. The homeless people like us, for the most part, and the kid is very friendly.

I was lucky in that I was able to take a mini break from work the past two days, and the new school session only starts today so I didn’t have homework, either. Yes: my vacation is a weekend of solo parenting during which I only had the kid and the housework! You totally wish you had my life.

Not So gets back today, and it’s a good thing. My poor beleagured brain is so distracted with kid stuff that when Chyna said “You look cute today!” I didn’t even consider that she might not be talking to the baby. It was only when she followed up with “Do I recognize that skirt?” that I realized she was talking about me.

Despite the fact that Happy Fun Baby threw an inexplicable hissy fit last night and screamed non-stop from 7pm until around 9 (I was beginning to freak out a bit myself but he calmed down just as quickly as he’d melted down), we made it through the night without incident. The kid is a bit bedraggled today, but very cute.

Not So called yesterday around 6pm to let us know he’d gotten in okay, but aside from that we haven’t heard from him. I wouldn’t think twice about that except, man, if I were away from the kid for a protracted period of time? I’d be a mess. Not So and I have always reacted differently to absences, so I guess it’s not that weird that he isn’t all OCD like me. When I went to WebVisions for the day, I had to physically restrain myself from calling every hour to check up on the kid. (Which worked, apparently, because I didn’t call once. Which…maybe is bad in the other direction?)

We’re doing great over here, actually. The weather’s beautiful, I’m weirdly caught up with business stuff, and the kid is cheerful and cooperative. Time for a field trip!

Right now Not So is somewhere in the sky* between Portland and San Jose, eating peanuts and reading a book. There is no one kicking him or demanding to run up and down the aisles, and he got to carry all his baggage on the plane with him instead of having to check all the myriad accessories that must accompany a trip with a toddler. That, my friends, is the way to travel.

While he’s gone, it’s just me and the munchkin. Four days of solo parenting. Woo hoo! I am looking forward to it, let me tell you. Except if I told you that, it would be a lie. Really the only perk that I can see is that I only have to share the bed with one person for the next few days, so maybe – just maybe – I will actually get to roll over during the night. (I’m not counting on it, though. Happy Fun Baby is a bed hog.)

Before Not So left this morning we took the kid to his 18 month Well Baby appointment. The involved getting up at 7:30 (not popular with the baby) and hopping on the Max out to Kaiser. Oh, wait – did I say hopping on the Max? I meant waiting for 45 minutes at the station a mile from the clinic and cursing TriMet for being utterly and completely useless. Apparently, a signal wasn’t working. Could they have told us this when we got on the train, instead of unceremoniously announcing that they were going out of service and dumping us at the Rose Quarter? Did they actually believe that there was a train “right behind us,” or was this a bald-faced lie? Because 45 minutes for a train that is supposed to come every 15 really doesn’t count as “right behind us.” Also: screw you, TriMet.

So we were late to the appointment. Very, very late. Happily the doctor had time to see us anyway, and he assuaged most (but not all) of my concerns about Happy Fun Baby’s development. He said he wasn’t worried about the fact that the kid isn’t talking all that much, and that if he keeps growing at this rate he’s going to be very tall indeed, and that we should feed him whatever he’s willing to eat (within reason, of course) and not try and force the issue with foods he’s not into at any given time. I love our pediatrician. Pretty much the only thing he said that wasn’t all “Go, Ellison!” was when we asked him about the headache-looking thing Ellison’s been doing:

Us: He’ll squeeze his eyes shut and press his hands to his head like it hurts or something.

Ped: Headaches are pretty uncommon in babies. It’s hard to diagnose unless he’s got a secondary symptom, like copious vomiting or sudden loss of muscle control, like leaning to one side or losing use of one leg.

Us: And that would indicate…?

Ped: You know, nothing good. A brain tumor or something like that. He seems fine, though. I wouldn’t worry.

Thanks, Ped. I am totally not going to spend the next four days obsessively Googling “toddler brain tumor symptoms” and anxiously monitoring my child’s every movement. Good day to you too.

*I mean that in the literal sense, not in the metaphorical “Daddy’s looking down at you from the sky” sense.