S-A-TUR-DAY

I went to a function with my best friend The Doctor today for her med school, a family fun fest kind of thing. Joey ran all over a playground then wanted to go to the bounce house. It was a SpongeBob Squarepants themed bounce house, which made me want to turn the other way immediately. [We don't disapprove of S.B.S.P. for any political, religious, or other absurd reason; we just think it is the most annoying cartoon ever and will do nothing but rot our son's brain. So we let him watch Spiderman, Batman, Looney Tunes, etc. - you know, the good stuff] He got into the bouncehouse and after a few minutes laid down in the middle and just chilled there, on his stomach, like he had just run a mile. So The Doctor and I would say, "Are you done?" mostly because we were hungry and bored and Joey would say "Not yet!" and get up and bounce. So we started asking him every time he would pause to catch his breathe, thus tiring him out enough to hopefully take a nap.

I decided right then and there I would be that mother that would buy a bounce house to be used 10 minutes a day if it meant I was allowed at least an hour of peace and quiet of Joey's Nap Time.

Unfortunately, there was not going to be a nap. I mourn the days when there would be silence in the house and Izzy the Ninja Dog and I would curl up on the couch and read or watch tv almost on mute with the captions on so as not to disrupt the sanctity of Nap Time. I could paint my nails or pluck my eyebrows or take a shower knowing that my son was in no way going to disturb me. Sometimes I, too, would fall asleep - a blessed respite in the middle of the day gearing me up for the apocalypse of a newly awake child once Nap Time was complete.

We've tried to change the name to "Quiet Time" - wherein Joey takes a book or two to his bedroom with the curtains drawn and soft music playing. The semantics approach worked for possibly a week. I can't remember due to exhaustion. Everyday during lunch he now makes it a point to tell me "I don't need to do Quiet Time today" like I don't know that if I tried to convince him otherwise there surely would be hell to pay on my part.

Have you ever seen that episode of The Twilight Zone where the kid Anthony can make horrible things happen so everyone in the town kisses his ass by telling him he "did a good thing"? Sometimes I think that's how we deal with him. Sure, he gets his time outs and spankings and overall he is a very well-behaved and well-mannered 3 year old, but at times the need to placate the crap out of him just to get a period of time without a meltdown tires me. He is such an only child, I can't wait to see what he'll do when we bring another kid into the house.

In the grown up world having nothing to do with children, I am crossing a threshold this evening. I am going to my first gay bar AND drag show! I am beyond excited and have been thinking about what to wear all day. It's not like I'm dressing to impress the ladies or anything; no, I am preparing for a much more critical audience - the gay man. Apparently the drag queens will think I am faboosh for wearing my face paint from earlier this afternoon but I don't know that I can bring myself to go out in public with it on. Making the decision to go out in public with face paint on is much different from going out in public having forgotten you have face paint on, as I've been doing all day. To the movie theatre, to the grocery store - TOTALLY forgot I had my face painted.

Off to a beautiful night of Madonna, sequins and eyelashes... the stuff dreams are made of.