Rain on my parade

The weekend wiped me out.

Friday at the end of the business day, I had a huge talk with one of my colleagues in Toronto. The conversation strayed from the shared project we're working on to some observations she's made on my own working habits and ethics. A lot of what she told me I was aware of already, but it still stung hearing it from another person. I left the office with the self-esteem of a tick.

Saturday morning we went to the Santa Claus parade downtown with good intentions. I knew Simon would enjoy it - what we didn't enjoy was the parade starting 25 minutes late. Imagine a street full of parents trying to convince their small children that something fun will indeedy be happening on this empty boring street any minute now, all the while trying to keep them from prying off their mittens, hats and snowsuits for the 14th time. The parade was good but not enough floats - dance recitals from the Ukrainian Society of Montreal every block is not entertaining enough for a two year old boy. One of the Police horses took a giant 12 litre piss right in front of us - probably Simon's favorite part of the day.

One of the Loblaw's "Mini-Chefs" made a pass at me - I tried to see who was under the costume through the neck hole but he bolted when I took a swing at him. For those who know me well enough, they know that I have a childhood fear and loathing of anything in a full costume. Later encounters as an adult of being chased in the flea-market by Mickey Mouse and having my ass grabbed by George Jetson at Canada's Wonderland have done nothing to ease these fears.

Saturday night we went out for Sandra and Zoe's birthday dinner. Great Greek food and some good laughs but I was so tired from not enough sleep the night before. Sunday morning Simon woke up foul and I had zero patience and way too much to do. He's had one of his wonder-coughs for well into three weeks now and you could tell it was bothering him. I needed him to be good though - we were becoming Godparents to Alexa that morning and I was tense. Tense because I knew he wouldn't sit still in the church and would be disruptive while I'd be up at the altar doing my Godmother thing. Tense because I knew the sound of his hacking would resonate through the church and people who don't know that he coughs like that from September to May every year would think "she should get that checked out," or "why did she bring such a sick boy out of the house." Tense because Simon was clinging and whining and I could do NOTHING in the morning without him throwing some version of a tantrum. I would have had a drink but didn't have time to get out the rum.

Fears confirmed - he wouldn't sit still in the church and ran around calling Katelyn at the top of his lungs and then started playing the church organ, which by the grace of Mother Mary herself, was unplugged. He sang along to his silent tune anyways much to the amusement of the churchgoers etc. I finally got him away to come see them light Alexa's christening candle only for him to then break into a full chorus of "Happy Birthday to You". During the sermon, he went back to the organ to finish off his Ray Charles impersonation and the reverend made a crack about his competition. I got the hint buddy. I made an SOS signal to my dad who took him and Katelyn out into the lobby to play during the rest of the service.

At the reception, I just wasn't there mentally. I feel so bad - I hardly helped out with anything, I was bitchy, my son was driving me nuts. He wouldn't eat anything but icing and milk. More whining, more clinging, more throwing tantrums, more not sharing, more not listening. I threw in the towel at 4:30 and we headed home.

Last night I thought about joining a support group for parents of toddlers or some sort of discipline counseling. But then I realized that the only reason I'd be going is to hear the counselor, moderator, coach or doctor (anyone with one iota of parenting authority) tell me that I'm not a horrible mother afterall and that I'm not screwing up royally. I'd just be looking for affirmation from someone who is not a blood relative or life-long friend.

This morning we brought Simon for his flu shot and quick check up. He's gained over one kilo since June which is great news. It means he's growing rather than losing weight and although he's in the low 5%, he's still on the growth curve nonetheless. We had his chest listened to and he's not wheezing so his cough is just the aftereffects of a doozer virus. I have the same thing - I've been hacking for two weeks now and my chest feels like a wet towel. I could only imagine what it's done to Simon. Best appointment we've had so far. No crying, no tantrums, no grabbing the pediatrician boobs (he's felt off two of them already)- it made up for the weekend, thank you Lord. I think I got a little blessing for spending one morning in church!