Nobody puts Baby in a closet

Yah, so, we did. And he is NOT happy about it.

Also, obviously, this isn't a picture of a closet. It's a picture of the bathroom window. Covered in tissues, in case you can't tell.

Because who in heckfire has a window in the bathroom that you can't cover?

Every year Nick has a work retreat at a country club in Charlottesville. Last year my OB wouldn't let me go because I was too pregnant. And then this year we were all going to go and then we weren't and then we were and we weren't.

I won't bore you with the details but in the end we did and here we are.

And it's sunny, and Jordan loves the pool. And grilled cheese. And dill pickles. Boy does he love dill pickles.

And I have decided this: I live in quirky old-house odd windows blah blah blah charm. I don't need it on my "vacation." And vacation is in quotes because traveling with an angry "this isn't home and fuck you I'm not sleeping" almost-one-year-old doesn't exactly say Vacation! to me.

When we got down here at 11:30 last night, poor old J was so tired and discombobulated that he pretty much went to sleep. In the closet.

The closet that's almost as big as the bedroom in my old place.

But let me tell you, it's nap time now, in fact, it's past nap time, and he is FURIOUS. He's in his familiar Pack and Play. But he's pissed about not being in his own crib, in his own room.

PISSED. And Dad is in all-day meetings. Mama has to pay.

But back to the window. Last night, right about midnight, after we'd stuck the kid in the closet and I went in to take a shower, I realized that with the light on, God and everyone would be able to see me all nakey nakey. Which, of course, is how I prefer to shower.

So I asked Nick if he'd brought any nails along.

Although I guess God is always able to see you. But anyway.

He's all big and handy. He always carries a Leatherman.

Nick, I mean. I doubt God needs a Leatherman.

He hadn't. (Nick, again.)

But there was this box of tissues. I started wetting them and sticking them up, in an effort to opacify our window. Although I guess they're more translucent than opaque, huh? I'm not so clear on which. No pun, seriously.

Anyway, that was last night, and they're still stuck in the same place.

I have to think Housekeeping was either WTF? or good idea! when they went through today.

We have the same damn window in the bedroom. I haven't tissued it, but tonight I am considering propping the ironing board up in front of it and mashing a pillow against it.

Is it trashy, the kid in the closet and tissue and ironing board with pillow on the windows?

And if it is, does trashy mean you can crack a beer before 3:30 on a Thursday afternoon?

If so, I'm totally embracing it.

And why can't I just talk about drywall like normal people?

Plantation shutters are my downfall. Because now every time I think of them I think of my imaginary penis and where to put it.

Although, OK, downfall is a little strong.

You know it all started with those plantation shutters at Nick's old place (hello, morning!) and how Nick was afraid you'd all think there was something very wrong with me if I blogged about it.

And then I did.

For people who know me, it's not that weird.

Right? Please say right.

But then sometimes I meet people, like for example this guy at a BBQ a month ago. He was, and I imagine still is, in the throes of massive construction on his house, which is what he was talking about when I met him.

A friend of friends was talking to him, and introduced us. She's someone I really like and hadn't seen in over a year. I asked what she'd been up to.

She has this very cool international everywhere job plus she does things like spend a month in Kerala at a yoga retreat. So she was telling me and I tried not to turn too deep a shade of envy green as the India-yoga-Iceland-volcano-stuck-in-Dubai-international-glamor washed over me.

(And what shade would envy green be, anyway? Mint? Chartreuse?)

Anyway, in response to the same question I was all: baby-baby poo-lack of sleep-baby-baby-snnnzzzzzzz-here-let-me-bore-you-to-death. In fact, let me bore myself to death. Gah!

So I turned to the guy to ask about The Construction.

(Because the construction! Having lived it, I now find it interesting! I don't know a lot, but terms like duct work and transom and mitre box and molding are now in my vocabulary!)

What was he doing to his house?

Him: Well, everything. Seriously, everything. But at the moment, he was dealing with installing new windows and shutters and such.

Me: New windows! Yes! New windows can simultaneously deplete your bank account and improve your life and electric bill.

We commiserated on the hassle and expense. He's not yet at the life improved stage. And he's trying to figure out the rest of the window treatment business.

Me: And shutters! I love shutters! Particularly plantation shutters, which we used to have and you know, if I had a penis, I would totally stick it through them! Which my husband thinks is weird and have you been to Founding Farmers?

As soon as all of that was out of my mouth, I had this sudden moment of, ohhh, what if they're interested in each other? Maybe they were having perfectly nice flirty conversation! Until I barged in and told them where I'd put the penis I don't have.

It's kind of like Tourette's with me, isn't it?

I made sure to excuse myself before I could bring up the caulk issue.

So Nick compared my high school reunion to a wedding and it makes me want to wear my veil and I am not kidding

One of Nick's friends asked him how my high school reunion went.

He replied, "She had a great time. It was kind of like a wedding."

I don't know if you have ever donned a veil, but I did, just that once, and it felt like magic. When I was a kid, one Christmas my dad gave me a purple feather boa. I just felt better when I had it on. It was exactly like that.

I'd wear it every day if I could. Honestly.

But I digress.

So he went on to explain the wedding analogy to me: there was the build-up. The anticipation! The excitement! And! Then! The all-weekend party! It was so incredible for all of us to be together! We stayed up late and drank too much and danced and talked and talked and talked and had such an amazing time!

(I'm adding the exclamation points; unlike me, Nick doesn't talk all exclamation-pointy.)

He went on, "And then there was some bratty behavior..."

"Wait, who was bratty?"

"You were. You were kind of a bridezilla."

"I was not! At our wedding!?"

"No. At your reunion."

"What?"

"You were all, this is MY weekend."

(At which point I was immediately all, asshole, it was MY weekend. YOU had your reunion weekend out of town. So you spent the weekend boozing and sleeping in and doing whatever the fuck you wanted ELSEWHERE while I stayed home with the kid.)

But since I'd already gotten 54 kinds of furious about our incident that weekend, thus branding myself as "bratty" I said, "Go on."

Although I maybe muttered "anal sphincter" under my breath a few times in a row. What? Sometimes it just feels good.

He continued, "You all had a great time all weekend. And then it was over and everyone left. And then you crashed."

And this was true. I had a hard week last week. I felt a lack in my world.

(I'd say a disruption in the force, but then you'd know for sure what a dork I am.)

I'd heard about people having the post-wedding crash, where they miss the lead-up and the excitement and anticipation and then they have such a good time! And then there is this void in their lives.

While I loved our wedding like crazy and wanted it to go on and on, this wasn't the case with me.

But post-reunion, I definitely felt like my life was, I don't know, a little less brightly colored. It wasn't Oz vs. Kansas. But somehow slightly diminished.

Realistically, I know that it was a superintense, highly emotional time. We filled Every. Single. Minute. with talk and laughter and drinks and remember when! and hugging and oh!, there is not enough time! Sleep is for when you're dead because we only have a couple days! and wow, I've missed you!

You can't sustain that intensity for very long. I get that. But coming down from it was hard.

And I love my now life. I love my husband and my child beyond reason. I never get enough time with either of them, and I revel in the time we have. I love where we live. I love my friends.

But still, I've realized that there's this little piece of my heart that is missing here.

It doesn't stop me from being happy. I don't generally feel the lack.

In fact, I didn't even realize it was empty, until it was full.

I'm so totally putting on that veil when I get home.

Monday bitty bits

Too much to do: I currently have too many competing projects and deadlines. Some people can start at the top of the list and calmly work their way down. I kind of start in the middle and spin around frantically.

80s music: I've been listening non-stop to the 80s mix that Russ, Kelli and I made reunion weekend. I was thinking maybe Jordan likes it because I played it for him in-utero but I realized it's probably because I dance around like a maniac while it's on. Love!

Aging: Sooo I just realized that a month from tomorrow I'm going to be a whole nother year older. Which means J is coming up on a year. Cripes.

New Favorite Chocolate: Have you tried Vosges chocolate bars? We got some as a present, and oh, happiness and delight!

Does this make me a terrible mother?: We need to get J a passport...which is all fine and good except that I still haven't applied for his birth certificate.

This is how hard I laughed for four days straight. Just with less food in my mouth.

I wish you all a happy laughter-ful weekend.

And a break from the hot-as-balls heat.

Hugs to all! Huge, huggy hugs.