On Strike
10:30 in the morning and I am proudly, even militantly, still in my pajamas. In fact, MomBrain is so busy collapsing that she cannot possibly shower, get dressed, or do anything except eat jelly toast and drink tea.
It's been a long week, with the Big Guy out of town and the Little Guy sick and housebound. It's been just the two of us, day after day, and I'm sorry but I just cannot play superheroes for one more minute. And so the jet-lagged Big Guy has taken the sniffly Little Guy to Target to buy presents, cards and wrapping paper for the next two birthday parties. Then they will go out to lunch. Then they will go to birthday party #1 until 4:00. And when they return I *may* be dressed.
Baseball season has begun, and here at MomBrain HQ that means 16-year-old girls have us by the short ones. We have tickets to 20 games, which means trolling for babysitters 20 times. Pizza? Sure! Video? Take your pick! Illicit "Sex in the City" DVDs? Knock yourself out! It's an easy gig. One extremely easy-going Little Guy who goes to bed at 7:30. Cable. Telephone. Oreos. And still we can't find anyone for less than $8 an hour.