Yesterday morning, I had the rare experience of sleeping in until 10 a.m. I didn't wake up all rested and pleasant, however. I was still in a grumpy mood from the brawl with my mother the night before and had not fallen asleep until almost 3 a.m. I had sat up watching TV and fretting. My mood did not improve when I realized that I would have to rush around getting everything ready to be out in Forest Hills by 11. Stacey's nephew's 2nd birthday party was about to be getting underway. Coffee, english muffin, email, skip shower, clothes, diaper bag, stroller, car seat, baby bike, to-go breakfast for baby, wake up baby, change baby, dress baby, entertain him with sippy cup, blargh! During all of this frenzy I realized three things: I did not have a birthday card for the rugrat, I was not going to make it to the Hipster Yard Sale, I had not phoned Shanley the night before like I had promised to. “No wonder everyone hates me,” I thought. My mind also drifted to the lack of writing that I had done the week before and I began to feel guilty. Guilt was replaced by confusion as I started to remember the bizarre dreams that I had the night before (capital punishment, nipple piercing, Dashboard Confessional,
I gathered up the boyfriend and we piled into the car. I stopped at Eckerd and grabbed a shitty “You're 2!” card.
We got to the birthday party around 12 and spent most of the time convincing the baby to not steal basketballs off of the other children. Lunch was welcome but disappointing. The fried chicken tasted like Equal, the potato salad was far too mayonnaise-y. The pasta salad was good, though. We stayed just long enough to watch the presents being opened and to sing some Happy Birthday.
After that we drove all the way over to South Park for a family reunion. Not close family, but the boyfriend's late grandfather's brothers and sisters and their offspring. Trying to explain that to people I briefly conversed with there was fun, “Um, I'm Kelly, and my boyfriend is that guy, whose grandmother is right there and she was married to Chuck, but he passed away last year, and I guess these people are his brothers and sisters but I don't know any of their names.” The whole vibe was just very strange. The only people I talked to were other parents of toddlers and we figured it was polite to introduce ourselves after breaking up fights over the baby's little bike. (It was a hot item.) I was there with the boyfriend, his mom, his grandmother and his sister and we generally didn't reunite with anyone.
The food situation was very strange. Since the boyfriend and I had dined at the birthday party, we weren't very hungry when we got there. The boyfriend's mother and grandmother, however, are that type of women who think that if you're not immediately scarfing down the food that they're offering, that there's something wrong with you.
“Have some chicken. Have some biscuits. Have some fruit. Have some cookies. Have some tomatoes. Have some broccoli salad.”
I just was not hungry right away and every time I turned down a different dish they would look at me out of the corner of their eyes as if I had just insulted their very existence. They offered me all of the food at least three different times until I finally got fed up and said, “Guys, seriously, I'm fine. When I need something to eat, I'll let you know.” That seemed to really offend them, but what the fuck? I'm not going to eat until I get sick.
The upside, however, was watching the baby warm up to the playground. He really got into the slide and we eventually had to drag him away from it. I think I got some good pictures.
My brain's about to melt.