Insert Clever Title Here

Sheesh. I'm so behind in writing, reading, and commenting on blogs. I hope the Internet still exists.

I've mentioned that MOTH is busy working on the show he's currently doing props for. It opens this weekend, which means that last weekend he was at the theater from 9 AM until after midnight both days. He's also been there much of this week, with Tankbaby strapped to him in the Ergo, until I can come home at night, after which MOTH goes right back to the theater. I hear him shower at 1 AM. I'm not sure what or when he's eating. But don't feel too sorry for him, because I want you to feel sorry for me, since this means that I've been Tankbabying solo for most of the past week. I'm not sure why it feels so much harder to be the only parent on duty in the evenings than during the day, but it does. Maybe because there's a deadline of bedtime looming, and so many tasks around dinner, lunch prep, etc. that need to be accomplished in a few hours. Plus, everything takes muuuuuch longer when you have to stop approximately every 3.4 seconds to wrest something dangerous from your baby's grubby mitts (to wit: the toilet brush, the garbage bag, the hairball from within the garbage bag, the Roomba, the diaper sprayer toilet attachment, the dirty diaper bag, a dirty diaper, the dog food, the dog water, the dog's tail). Lately, I can reach my target heart rate while brushing my teeth.

So, remember that new friend I met a few months ago? She e-mailed me again and we had dinner tonight. By all accounts, it was lovely...comfortable, informal, absolutely something I would do again. And STILL, I'm all paranoid now that she didn't like my risotto (Bacon-Butternut-Squash Risotto? What's not to like?) or thought that I was too disorganized to be a mom (Tankbaby managed to find--on the floor I just swept, I swear!--an Aleve tablet and put it in his mouth without me noticing, because I was so busy chopping squash while trying to be funny. Luckily, I checked on him and caught the confused look and dissolving pill coating and fished it out of his mouth, chuckling manically all the while, like, "HEY NEW FRIEND WHO ALSO HAPPENS TO BE A DHS MANDATED REPORTER, THIS IS A TOTALLY FOREIGN OCCURRENCE THAT IS AN UNFORTUNATE BLEMISH ON MY OTHERWISE SPOTLESS RECORD HA HA HA!") or maybe she could tell these braids are actually because I haven't washed my hair since Sunday, I don't know.

This is too stressful. I'll just have to learn to work with the friends I've got now.

And, because apparently a coherent theme is beyond me right now, I'll share with you the moment of my day that encapsulates my job. Z, a four-year-old with autism, was using a play microphone and it was time to clean up, so I said, "Time to put the microphone away." She refused and ran over to the corner. I followed her and, because she was clearly getting worked up, stopped giving directions in long sentences and instead just paired a simple gesture and single word (the idea being that, for kids who have trouble processing language, the fewer words the better when you are giving directions).

Me (putting my hand out): Z, microphone.

Z: No.

Me: Microphone.

Z: No.

Me: Microphone.

Z: No!

Me: Microphone.

Z: NO!

Me: Microphone.

Z: Chocolate.

It was like doing a Meisner exercise with one of the Marx Brothers.