Kristin and Julia are leaving me...
for Houston. Kristin's brother (who used to live in Hawaii) has sold his house and bought a boat and he and his wife and kids are going to go drive their boat (look at me! all nautical and stuff!) to the Carribbean and live the good life. But first they stopped to visit Kristin's sister in Houston, so off Kristin and Julia go to bid them fare-thee-well (plus he's never met Julia). I can't go. I don't have any time off to take. So I have been abandoned.
As this is the first time I've spent any time away from Julia (more than just overnight as on Grandparent's night) and as this is the first time I've been away from Kristin overnight since June of 2002, I thought I'd live blog this unique experience. Lucky you!
4:30 AM: Just got home from dropping Julia and Kristin off at the airport. I tried to get Julia to give me kisses goodby, but she said no. Obviously she has NO IDEA that I will be gone from her life for over 48 hours. I hope she remembers me when she gets back. I hope she gets back. I hope that the plane doesn't crash in a fiery fire ball of flame depriving me of the two most important people in my life...
There are only 2 hours before I would need to get up and go to work anyway, and the bed is too big and cold. Besides, I would just fall asleep and then have a hard time waking up and then wish I could just take the day off and mope around, but OH! That's right. If I could take a day off then I wouldn't have been abandoned! So I think I'll just stay up. I've got some volunteer work to work on, I'll just sit at the computer and work on that. Yeah. Then I'll leisurely get ready for work. Maybe I'll even put on makeup and perfume. Maybe I'll even do my hair.
5:35: I didn't get a call. They must have made it on the plane. They were flying standby, and there's always a chance of getting bumped while flying standby. Crazy to fly standby with a baby. I'm just hoping that the flight isn't like the last flight we took with Julia... but this time we packed plenty of dramamine and chocolate and chocolate-covered dramamine. This is to be the trial flight to see if drugging Julia with dramamine results in the desired outcome (a sleepy and non-screaming baby contentedly resting and drowsing through the flight) without any unwanted outcomes (such as the turning of our little angel into a dramamine junky) because, frankly, we're not sure how we're going to get through the three flights to Kauai if we can't sedate our child. We're bad parents like that.
So, I didn't get a call. They must have gotten on. They must have gotten through security with that dangerous bottle of milk. It is out of my hands now.
7:35: Shit! I'm going to be late for work! And yet, here I am, blogging! Why, you ask, am I going to be late for work? Because I decided to clean the house. I don't know what's happening to me. I used to be the biggest slob. Still am a slob. Still. But yet, now, whenever I'm nervous or depressed or anxious all I want to do is clean. As if the answer to all my problems lies in a shiny glass table-top. Or an immaculate floor. So I clean. Or I sit around feeling frustrated because everything's so messy and I can't clean. So this morning I emptied the diswasher, put all Julia's toys away, cleaned up the garbage shreds left over from the dogs getting into the kitchen garbage can (damn dogs figured out that if they step on the pedal the lid will open giving them access to the treasure of treasures) swept the floor, vacuumed. Basically I did everything I could do to make the house look good without actually going so far as to clean the bedrooms where my beloveds should have been sleeping. That would have been too jarring. Hell, I should have just gone to sleep. Oh me, too late now.
Hey, one bonus to being left behind: I'm wearing Kristin's new white knit hoodie. It looks pretty good on me if I say so myself. Now if only I can manage not to spill anything on it so she never knows...
8:35 AM: Just got a call from Kristin. They landed safely! They're in Houston. And a full hour before my scheduled freak-out that they were crisping in a plane crash somewhere! Now I can settle down and do some work. Did I mention that my resolution (one of them) was to blog less (at work) and work more? Of course, here I am, blogging more and working less. I better nip this one in the bud! Off to work...
9:23: I'm supposed to be working on payroll. But I had a thought. Can't remember the thought now, though, that I'm here to tell it to y'all. I guess I'll go look at the payroll stuff again. I wonder if Julia has noticed that I'm missing yet. I've just noticed that I seem to be blogging once an hour, that seems strange to me. I should stop blogging and get back to work. People need to be paid, you know.
12:55PM: I have successfully broken the one hour mark: I have now gone more than one hour without begging for attention from anyone. Whoopee!
1:08 PM: Holy Shit! I hope it's not an omen! The UPS guy just came and when he was handing me that computer pad (that's heavier than it looks) to sign for the packages I dropped it and it fell hard on my desk smashing a red pen that I had casually left uncapped just moments before. Now there's blood-red spatter all over my mousepad that's decorated with this picture:
and now it looks like this...(Picture removed due to my supserstition and anxiety... just use your imaginations, ok?)
I'm really upset at this. It's more than a little disturbing to see red smeared all over my baby, especially since she's not within kissing distance. I may have to throw my mousepad away...
4:27 PM: Well, I made it through work, even though I had 2 count 'em TWO frustrating phone calls with the IRS over the same damn issue. I was getting dead-walled by one guy, so I hung up on him and called back (waiting another 20 minutes on hold) and got someone else and finally got my problem taken care of. And the whole time I was on hold I kept wondering if my recreation of my newly grotesque mouse-pad was really the bad-luck token that I originally took the mousepad to be... Is it? Have I damned myself by trying to illustrate my original damning? Omens are just so confusing...
Anyway, I'm off for home now. I'm going to go out to a pub with one of my oldest friends. Never fear, though! The live-blogging of my solitude will continue. I think this is going to be one of my longest continuous posts ever!
6:24 PM: I am wracked with anxiety. On the one hand this would be about the time Kristin and Julia walked in the door if it were a late night for Kristin at work and so there's a primal part of me saying, "Read NOW, slouch around NOW, check your email NOW! Hurry BEFORE THEY GET HOME, enjoy your alone time before they get home!" But they're not coming home. So no need to rush. No need to do anything, even though there's another part of me urgently directing my attention to the pile of clean laundry that needs to be folded, and the christmas decorations that need to come down, and the closet that needs to be reorganized, and the weatherstripping that needs to be applied... I guess I don't feel like I deserve to be lazy and slothful on my weekend alone. I feel that I must fill the weekend with Productivity and Good Works and Create a Welcoming Home Environment for my weary travellers upon their return. Or perhaps they'll realize that they really did quite fine on their own and decide that I'm too lazy and slothful to bother with. Maybe they'll come home, take one look at the messy house, and walk the other way.
Ok, I know that won't happen. But it's a very primal part of me talking right now.
God, I need a drink. Any minute now Moss will call me and we'll go out and get some beers and sweet potato fries. So I should hurry up and read NOW! BEFORE SHE CALLS! I should get my cleaning done now now now! Damn those tricky, wormy thoughts!
12:53 AM: Got in about a half hour ago from hanging out with Moss. We went to the bayou and she introduced me to the delight of a Black and Tan. Hanging out with her was just what I needed. We've been friends for 12 years now and she has a piece of my soul. We kept playing the "remember this?" game and giggling like we were 20 and stupid again. It felt good to be reminded about how far I've come since we met, how much I've grown and accomplished, just as it felt good to leave the Mom part of me at the door... though I couldn't shake the Mom all the way off, conversation turned oh so easily toward Julia and how wonderful she is, and marriage and relationship and how rewarding (and hard sometimes) it is. But it felt good to be free of anxiety and to relish in memory for once.
After the pub Moss showed me her new place (she's getting a divorce and I had yet to see her digs) and there, smack dab on the wall, was a picture of me taken on her wedding day. I'm standing next to her and her husband. I remember this picture: I was pretty unhappy and confused that day, and I thought I looked terrible. But they loved that picture. Had it hanging right in their entryway. I was so embarrased by how ugly (I thought) I looked. I hated going to their house because I hated looking at that picture. Eventually I got in the habit of looking over it until I never saw it at all. But I looked at it tonight and I was stuck by how cute -- no, beautiful (if you'll allow me the liberty) I looked in that picture. Only 6 years ago. It's such a tragedy that I can only think I look beautiful if there's a span of at least 5 years between me and a picture of me. I should ask her for a copy of that picture to remind myself that even if I feel like I'm the most embarrassingly ugly person alive, I really am a beautiful person.
So, I'm calm and happy right now. The anxiety is hanging at the edges and the house is too quiet. But I'm going to go to bed and turn on the sound of crickets and fall asleep and dream of loved ones.