Once a Plan is in place, I generally prefer that it be left alone. DH views a Plan as a work in progress. He will continue to research options, and if he finds something he likes better, he’ll change The Plan. Just like that! Who cares if Plan 2 is better than Plan 1? The point is we had a Plan, and now The Plan is gone. What will become of us? Oh, the humanity! (And you can all just shut your traps with your “logic” and your “reasoning.” I ain’t buying.)
This is the area of our relationship that is most likely to spark Serious Discussions. For example, we might Discuss which of us is possibly more rigid than tempered steel, and which of us is maybe CHANGING THINGS AGAIN OMG PLEASE STOP CHANGING THINGS. During these Discussions, I am fond of pointing out that I am much more flexible than my parents. Being less crazy than your family of origin is proof of some kind of evolutionary success, I feel. That should count for something, even if it doesn’t discount the fact that I am a pathological stick-in-the-mud.
Raisin falls more often into the Today Should Be Just Like Yesterday camp. I can’t tell yet whether that is simply a function of being two, or if that’s her own personality coming through. If it is, in fact, the latter, then we may have some work to do towards ensuring the continuation of my Evolution Plan.
Case in point: Before we left for California, the hairdryer started making a suspicious noise. My MIL has one for us to use while we visit, so I didn’t replace ours right away. On Tuesday, Raisin and I shopped at Target, and I quelled my inner need to buy the exact same hairdryer (they didn’t have it), and purchased a replacement. I even used it yesterday morning, and I feel that, in time, the new hairdryer and I may come to be good friends. (See? Positively brimming with flexibility over here.)
Last night was the first time I attempted to dry Raisin’s hair with what I now realize is Satan’s own hairdryer. It dares to be “chrome” in color. “BLACK ONE, MOMMY!!! BLACK ONE!!! [sobs hysterically]” Also, it is clearly “too loud! Mommy, too loud! TOOO LOOUUUDDD!” (How this can be, given that the old hairdryer was decommissioned because of the suspicious noise, I do not know. Nevertheless. TOO LOUD.)
Any bets on how many days I will spend explaining that the black hairdryer is broken before she accepts this new intruder? And if DH is able to fix the old one (he wants to tinker with it to see if he can diagnose the problem), will it meet with as much resistance if/when it is reintroduced?
Parenthood is so glamorous.
(Oh! That reminds me. I had another story about the glamour, and it’s really not long enough for its own post. On Tuesday when we got back from Target, it was already Raisin’s bedtime. I decided to skip her bath, until I went to change her diaper and discovered that it was full of sand (MOMMY GUILT ALERT. SHE SPENT AT LEAST 3 HOURS IN THIS CONDITION.). Since a bath was now in order anyway, I asked DH if he thought I should wash her hair, too. “Nah,” he replied. “Just rinse out her butt.” Now, I ask you, in what other stations in life do you ever get to utter THAT phrase?)
Life in the Fruit Salad household is:Crazy. Wonderful. Exhausting. Exhilarating. Chaotic. Full. Blessed.