Helena spending the better part of Saturday morning walking backwards. Just because.
Helena "teaching" Dancing Elmo how to use the computer mouse (but not very well).
Helena repeating after me, "Okey-dokey, Pokey."
Grocery shopping on Saturday. I hate it. J-F hates it. Helena wasn't very happy about it either. So we stopped to smell the flowers. Literally. We made our way to the florist department and Helena burrowed her nose into various blooms, breathing deep. She is the cutest little girl ever!
Helena refusing to eat anything I prepared for her, unless it was served at a tea party, with portions given to each of the two dolls seated along with her at the low table. Endearing? Infuriating actually.
My patience is running out. I used to be a very patient person. No longer. As mommyhood took hold, I gradually lost patience for everything in order to build up an endless store reserved for baby girl. That well is running dry.
It's often noted that freelance work tends toward a feast or famine cycle. While I've been feasting on word counts: sleep, love and romance, physical health and well-being, my insignificant reading life, my let's go for a walk and grab a coffee life, my insignificant but ever so dearly missed curling up to watch a dumb movie and share a good bottle of wine life — they're all languishing like the near-dead ivy hanging in the corner of the apartment that I keep forgetting to water and which I should move out of the draft.
Right. And the housework.
My sister suggested she and I meet in New York for a weekend to take in the magic of Christo. I'd love to. But there are other things I'd love to, even more.
Monday morning: will my weekend ever come?