I was bad: I had a glass of wine at 3:30 this afternoon. I had been wanting it for a few hours, and even though it has been two weeks since weaning, I still feel like it's not quite right to have a glass of wine during the day. I'm working, after all. We wouldn't do this at a regular job...or would we? I've lost perspective, but it did take the edge off this day that started before 5am with some escalating cries from the crib, and continued with kicks and squirms and whimpers in bed with us, as we tried without success to catch another hour or two of sleep. There were the usual interruptions every time I tried to take a bite of breakfast or a sip of coffee, and the typical injuries sustained when Sam tiptoed onto my bare feet or swung his skull into my nose. All this is wine-worthy on the best of days, but why today? I'm not one to say things like, "There are two kinds of people in the world..." and then make some random distinction...but sometimes I feel like I can divide my days between the ones where something gets broken, and those where things stay intact. Around 10 this morning Sam broke a plate by pushing it from the counter into the sink. At lunch the breadbox door splintered and fell off as I had to dart away without closing it properly in order to prevent another mishap (that detail now lost without physical breakage to remember it). At this very moment he is alternating between swinging a red spatula around the room, and grabbing the lamp-chain from the corner of this desk. You see what it's like. If one more thing breaks I'm definitely having a refill.
