Low Standards

 

Hey, mom, how’d you sleep?  I’m still tired.  Can I nurse more?

 

I didn’t sleep.  You used me as a pacifier all night.  When I tried to un-latch you and put you in your own bed, you screamed.  I decided that dozing with you attached to my breasts was better than screaming.  I have no more milk to give you, and besides, it’s time for work.

 

 

Gee, you sound sort of annoyed.

 

Honey, it’s been a long week.  I’m driving a car that’s not mine, it’s over 80 degrees and our house is an inferno, and the dog has shed so much, my ice cream has fur.  Plus, you might have noticed that your dad is gone, so I have had no adult help with you and your brother and the house this week.

 

 

Here, have some cantaloupe.

 

No, thanks, babe.  You keep it. 

 

 

Okay, then, but you’re missing out.  Besides, I’ve noticed that you’re not so into cooking this week.  If you skip this cantaloupe, you might be limited to nachos and pancakes until you can find the energy to shop again.

 

Excuse me?  Am I not keeping you alive in this murderous heat, under less-than-ideal circumstances, and without the help of your father?

 

 

Sheesh, don’t be so touchy.  I only meant that you seem a bit lazy these days.  Here, have some baby corn (snort!).

 

Ha ha, very funny.  For your information, I’m exhausted, I had to do all the cleanup after we went camping, I broke our second vehicle after our first went kablooie and has been out of commission for a month, and it’s TOUGH to cook for one adult, one four-year-old, and one baby.  I think I’m managing just FINE, thank you, and there’s nothing lazy about it.  You have clean clothing, don’t you?

 

   

Mom, I’m just saying that things are starting to slip, is all.  I still love you.  And I’m still cute, which allows you to forgive a multitude of sins.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for bed.  Where are you going to sleep?

 

Sigh.  I have no idea.