Minky & Me

Him: What’s wrong?
Me: I don’t know. It’s my hormones. I’m a victim of my hormones.
Him: I’m suffering from second-hand hormones (pause). Half of all Americans suffer from second-hand hormones.

Tristan came to my school today to demonstrate unicycling to the 2nd graders. He was fantastic. His dad and I were impressed and proud at how well he answered the questions the kids and teachers had. At the end of the show, one kid yelled “bravo!” I came home with a fistful of thank you cards the kids had made. It was a great day.

This posting was written Sunday, the 5th.

I have been thinking that Minky & Me might become a monthly kind of thing since it seems I am so short on time lately. Only the photographs are updated regularly these days. Since I am finishing my last assignment for my class this coming week, I thought I would take a minute now to write a little about the weekend.

Unlike last weekend when I went out TWO nights in a row with girlfriends, this weekend has been a bit quiet. After toiling for hours on my paper yesterday, we met friends at open studios in a nearby town and then to dinner afterwards. It was enjoyable afternoon, though Coco’s preoccupation with jumping and crawling all over everyone at dinner made the meal slightly stressful for me. Our friends took it all in stride, though.

Last night Tristan and I went in search of ice cream. Tristan drove. It is still a bit funny for me to be a passenger while Tristan drives mostly because it wasn’t that long ago that he was a lot shorter than me and boy-like. Now he is a real guy. Anyway, he’s doing really well with the stick shift, though I sense a bit of a hesitation with certain maneuvers. For instance, as he turned his head to check his blind spot before switching lanes, his hand came off of the steering wheel and hit the windshield wipers. They swished back and forth making that screechy windshield-is-dry noise. It struck us both as hilarious.

My enthusiasm for the Big Girl Bed has plummeted. On Sunday, I was practically shouting BIG GIRL BED into telephones and at neighbors, with an expression of glee on my face. Now, day 2, I am weary.

Last night Coco and I engaged in a long, winner-less struggle before she finally succumbed to sleep at about 10 PM. It was a long night with varying proportions of:

High-level reasoning: “You’re a Big Girl now. Can you show me how you can be a Big Girl and fall asleep in your new bed?”
Begging: “Mommy needs to read now, will you please, please go to sleep.”
Shouting: “Get into your bed!”
Crying

During one of our “peace talks” she said, in an apologetic tone, “I’m sorry you yelled at me, Mommy.”