Comeuppance

Ohh it’s a rough adjustment coming back from the holidays, where Grandmas were burping our baby and changing her diaper, a Grampa was cooking incredible meals and the Aunties fought over who got to soothe her when she cried. For reals. Both Olive and I are in withdrawal.

She is protesting this unpleasant change of circumstance by refusing to nap anywhere but in my arms. I am protesting by staying in bed all day.

Neither of us has been particularly successful in our protests: She dozed off in her swing for twenty minutes while I made lunch – against her better judgement, she’ll have you know- and I had to get dressed and leave the house to take advantage of a rare sunny day with a 1.5 hr walk.

I think that I had gotten so used to having an army of people raising this child with me that I’d forgotten what it was like to do it on my own. At one point during Christmas we were going to give Olive a bath, and I walked empty handed to the bathroom while calling back over my shoulder, “Can someone bring me my baby?”

Can someone bring me my baby.

I actually said this. Straight faced. Totally serious.

What a dick! Well now I’m getting my comeuppance I tell you.

*****

In other news, as the post below suggests, I am joining the rest of the chumps with their “Ah Swear! No more junk food!” resolutions by giving up sugar and gluten for January. This is 100% the result of a newly developed sweet tooth that is totally out of control. I have never in my life had a sweet tooth. I’d drink pickle juice and sip strange concoctions of salt and vinegar mixed together in a glass. I’d eat so many sour candies that my tongue peeled. But never did I have trouble saying no to a brownie. Never had I found myself lingering in the candy aisle conducting long arguments in my head over whether or not I should get one crispy crunch or two.

Internets, I wasn’t even arguing about WHETHER or not to get one, I was arguing about HOW MANY.

I acknowledge that I have a problem. I blame my baby, the diabeetus (now long gone), George W. Bush, and my mom and mother-in-law who enabled this sugar binge by buying me the richest quadruple layer chocolate cream tuxedo truffle monstrosity of a cake for my birthday. It was unreal. I ate like a quarter of that cake over the course of two days and the only thing stopping me from sneaking some in the middle of the night was the fear of being caught.

So.

January. No sugar, no gluten. Avoiding sugar to kill the sweet tooth and passing on gluten because I like hopping on trendy bandwagon diets.

So far it’s going great (the ice cream in the bath extravaganza was from two nights ago) and I’m pretty used to doing strange cleanses, so this routine feels familiar to me. I’m satisfying my sugar cravings with apples and almond butter, and so far so good.

In closing I would like to say the word “comeuppance” one more time:

Comeuppance.