It’s Raining, It’s Pouring

It’s 2:40 AM and I woke up at 2 to the what sounded like popcorn kernels hitting the side of the house. It took me a few minutes to realize that it was just rain being blown against the building by a seriously fierce wind. Still, that knowledge wasn’t enough to let me get back to sleep. After using the bathroom and changing into a t-shirt so I’d be cooler, I realized that underneath the sound of the rain hitting the window was another, much less pleasant sound. The sound of rain hitting the windowsill. It took them months to get someone out here to seal our bedroom window and by the time they did, it was late enough that rain wasn’t a big issue. We didn’t have any that was hard enough or hit the window in just the right way to leak. So of course, I took the towel away that’s been sitting there for nearly a year and threw it in the laundry, which naturally means that the window would start leaking tonight, forcing me to dig through the dryer to find said towel. Guess I’ll be calling the management office in the morning.

My mom is going to be here in a few days. Fortunately, she amended her plans somewhat. She was originally going to stay till about the 30th. Now she’s going to leave the 24th or 25th so she can spend the weekend with my dad before he goes down to Norwalk. I’m not complaining. She’s already bitched about sleeping on the futon instead of the air mattress. We put the futon in that bedroom after we got the new sofa specifically for her visit. Because last time she was here (when Pippa was born), she kept complaining about being cold on the air mattress, despite a comforter under a mattress pad and flannel sheets. So I told her that we’d kept the futon for her to sleep on and she complained that the air mattress was more comfortable. What. The. Fuck. Seriously? How about next time you can get a hotel instead of complaining about your hosts’ accommodations?

When I called my parents a few days ago, my dad was upset that he couldn’t come out too because he has to start work. I understand how that might be upsetting. But at the same time, don’t bitch that we can’t visit when a trip east means ME flying by myself with Pippa because Alan can’t take leave at random times. And at this point, I would have to buy her a seat because there’s no fucking way she would sit on my lap for that long. So expensive, stressful, and I don’t even get along with my parents all that well… sounds like a great time!

In less aggravating parts of my life, it’s coming time to move Pippa into her own room. We completely failed at moving her bed away from ours for the night because she woke up around 10 PM and saw that we were farther away and hated it. And because she was so desperate to get to us, she kept leaning over the guardrail that’s there to make sure she doesn’t roll out, which would have made for a much nastier fall than if she’d had the patience to get down the safe way. I think moving her to her own room will eliminate at least part of that problem, though it may result in a few nights of bad sleep for us (mostly just me).

I’m not thrilled at the prospect. The teacher side of me knows that she needs her own space as she becomes a toddler. The mommy side is thinking that the "family bed" sounds like a really great idea. I love that she climbs in with me in the morning and that if she wakes up unhappy, she’s soothed just knowing that we’re there. I’ll be sad when that changes, though Alan is really eager for us to have our space back. I think sometimes that because he was gone and missed so much of her babyhood, he doesn’t always "get it." And maybe because of that, she and I are more of a unit than the three of us together.

In terms of Alan, he’s been a bit mercurial lately. Not the way I am, of course, since I’m pretty much pathological when it comes to mood. But it’s annoying. He’ll sit on the opposite side of the sofa to me one night, and then complain that I’m not snuggling with him the next. He’s super insecure lately because he’s been having dreams that I’m leaving him or that I ask for a divorce. And then he gets all Eeyore on me if I criticize the way he loads the dishwasher because he actually used to correct my dishwasher-loading technique all the time and now he’s doing it completely differently. Or that I don’t want to cuddle when I have NEVER been a cuddler. Or the fact that he totally rearranged Pippa’s room last weekend without checking with me and I flipped out. I’m not getting mad at him particularly and certainly not more frequently than before except for the dishwasher thing, because it’s weird. It’s not like he was loading dishwashers in Afghanistan after all. But because he’s already insecure he’s perceiving every little thing as a sign that I’m getting ready to leave. It’s driving me nuts! The worst part is that his insecurity is so out of character and I have so little patience for it that it’s making me not want to deal with it. I don’t know if it’s his way of distancing himself from me because he legitimately thinks I’m leaving him, or if he just needs someone to talk to about the fact that we had such completely different lives during a major formative time in our relationship as new parents. I was a mom to a baby while he didn’t really have to be a dad until she was practically a toddler. ::sigh:: I wish he would talk to someone about it because I don’t feel qualified and I’m tired of talking in circles about all of this when it all comes back to the same issues, but he’s not interested. Another thing that’s driving me a little nuts. I hate having the same conversation all the time.

Well, it’s still raining, but the wind seems to have died down. I may try to go back to bed. Of course, there’s always a chance that Pippa crawled into my spot since I’ve been out here. ^_^

~Liz