The past few days, we had a guest of sorts.... A little stuffed rhinoceros named "Roman". Seems the good folks at The Wee One's daycare find it amusing to send this little beast home as a reminder to actually entertain your children on weekends. Weekends! The one time I attempt to furiously escape the punishment of the preceding week. To wash away the stress while drowning my sorrows in a cardboard box containing the nectar of some bottom-of-the-barrel deities.
We're instructed to bring Roman everywhere we go and send him back the following Monday with a journal detailing his adventures. "Adventures".... a bit of a stretch when I spend most of my "free time" counting down until the next nap in a fit of depression. Lucky for Roman, this was one of our more productive weekends due to the ever increasing guilt I've had bubbling from within for a few months now (although that could be the aforementioned "wine" pissing off my intestines).
Post child Numero Uno, I became more and more withdrawn. Slipping rather easily into an introverted lifestyle. If Meals On Wheels weren't so judgemental of my otherwise good health and relative youth, I'd take no issue with becoming a full-time shut in. Turns out that isn't the pinnacle or even definition of good parenting (who knew?). Don't get me wrong, I don't mind picnics by a waterfall or camping up in the mountains.... I love snowboarding and kayaking... hiking and general frolic. What I mind terribly, is people. I have no interest in taking on huge crowds or even a handful of passersby. Often so much as one other person at the gas station is reason enough to flee and wait for another day (much to the chagrin of my VERY forgiving car). All of this leads me to believe I should win some sort of bloody award for dreaming up a surprise visit to Chuck E Cheese for no particular reason aside from the chilly outside temperatures.
The following day, I was gearing up for another inner meltdown as I prepared the boys for a play date with one of The Older One's school friends. We were to meet at the park. "I can handle this", I kept telling myself. "Remain calm. Stop sweating. Christ, Woman! Did you just throw up in your mouth?" Then the phone rang... it seems The Friend's mother thought it still too chilly out and suggested the little playground in the center of the mall.
When I came to, I had a bruised skull and tears in my eyes. What hellish karma was unleashing it's unadulterated fury down upon me!?!??! *more tears and hyperventilating* My 'Ol Man must have quickly recognized that I was liable to dart off for the border left unattended, so he offered to accompany us to keep me under some semblance of control. More pictures of Roman ensue and another hurdle overcome.
Finally it was time to record the memories in Roman's little nondescript journal. Here's where things get fun: I composed the caliber of brilliance as spoken through a stuffed Rhinoceros's beady eyes. We're talking exaggerated character development, plot twists, emotional climaxes and heart wrenching back story all exquisitely illustrated with thumbnail portraiture. This all led me quickly to believe I have no friends, no life and not a shred of sanity.
Damn you, Roman. Damn you and your fluffy poisoning of an already delicate psyche. I need help. Serious and well documented help. And a drink. Perhaps some medication. Well.... all of that and a WELL EARNED NAP.