Hilary Moon Murphy

Valentine Grumpiness

I had a great day planned. I was only working in the morning, so we agreed that I would return home in the early afternoon to play with Cassie, and then Andy and I would spend quality time together while she napped. For dinner, we'd have romantic dinner of french onion soup and salad, and then Andy and I would roll out sugar cookie dough for Cassie to cut out into little heart shapes with a cookie cutter and decorate with sprinkles. We'd spend time dancing to Beatle hits like "I want to hold your hand" and "Love, love me do" and end the day in a warm and fuzzy Valentine's Day glow.

When I returned from work, Andy had his hands full of groceries and a howling Cassie. "Take her from me, please!" I tried to calm her down. She continued to howl, even when we made her favorite grilled cheese sandwiches. Every little thing made her upset. By the time we put her down for nap, both Andy and I were a bit grumpy and anti-social. Still, we recovered and Andy presented me with some cute lingerie and a really sweet Valentine's card. I prepared the cookie dough and the soup and salad, expecting us to resume our plan after Cassie had rested from her nap.

But when she woke up, she continued to be cranky, howling in indignation at the meal and refusing to eat. We even put out yogurt -- one of her favorite foods -- in the hopes that she would calm down. No dice. Finally, being the rotten awful parents that we are, we took our meals to another room so we could eat in peace while she continued to scream in her chair. The moment we left, she calmed down. She even ate half her dinner, and I began to hope that we could acheive the warm and fuzzy Valentine glow by the end of the night.

Nope. She decided to fuss over every little thing after that. I began to wonder whether she was sick, but finally came to the conclusion that the only problem she had was that she was two. Cassie admitted, "I'm four grumpy, Mom" (for those of you who missed my last entry, four is the top of Cassie's current rating scale.) I never got out the cookie dough that I had chilled in the fridge, or put on the Beatles CD. By the end of the night, Andy and I each had splitting headaches.

Note to self: romance and toddlers don't mix. Next time, hire a baby sitter.

Hmm

PS To top off my day, I got a rejection from Glimmer Train on a story that they'd held for longer than usual. I think I'm going to go off and snarl at the cats.