Today will be a silent day for me, at least verbally. One of those things where if you can’t say something nice, blah blah blah. My boss is already grousing over in her corner of the lab and what I want to tell her would get me fired for sure.
Trip to Charlotte was great, as usual. I practiced every day (somehow I’m still maintaining NaYoPracMo), we walked around one of Charlotte’s posh neighborhoods, enjoying the relatively mild weather and brilliant sunlight, and we went to see Children of Men. It’s unbelievably good. Violent, but not gratuitously so – and some moments of breathtaking beauty. I’m still processing it. It’s important, though. Despite its post-apocalyptic setting, it brings the reality of our world as it is now right in front of your face. The social commentary is a little heavy-handed, but I’ll forgive almost anything to see Michael Caine play an old stoner hippie – and so spectacularly well.
Cuaron deserves an Oscar. So does Clive Owen. They won’t even be nominated, though, given the late release and sadly understated publicity for this film.
Anyway. Brian and Duck had a wonderful weekend together, too. Great for both of them, because since the Spanking, she’s wanted nothing to do with him.
Baby A hung out with us for a while on Sunday afternoon while Todd and Pamela did some more house-hunting around here. Rough process, especially in the winter; there’s just not much on the market.
This morning was wretched. Waking up my own self was manageable. Duckie was having none of it. It resulted in another spanking – this one administered myself. The threat was out of my mouth before I could stop it, and I’m not going to threaten something and not follow through. She calmed down and paid attention fairly quickly afterwards, but then freaked out demon-style in the car on the way to school because she wanted her *@((^ mittens.
God, there has just got to be a better way to deal with this. I suppose I just need to get up earlier and get ready myself before trying to rouse the rabble. Get over this whiny feeling of “it’s unfair!” that I’m the one who has to do it. I’m the morning person, after all, even if three days a month I couldn’t feel less like one.
Make sure she gets to bed earlier. Start the night before? Talk about setting aside her pretty nightgowns for a while until she’s old enough to get dressed on her own in the morning. Then again, how do we administer such a policy, where the consequences of bad behavior in the morning aren’t put into place until later that night? I’m all about some natural consequences, but what do you do when she just won’t get out of bed?
I’m totally at a loss.
So I’m wretched this morning, too. I’m deathly pale from monthly anemia, I haven’t even brushed my hair this morning, and I’m just all-around cranky. But I did manage to shower and brush my teeth. There’s that. And I’m not living in a refugee camp. There’s that, too. Hard to see Children of Men and forget the reality of my own dumb-lucky situation as a middle-class American citizen.
So, OK. Pony up and get over it. Happy *&^%*# Monday, y'all.