That's us. Having a helluva week here in the Baby Squared household. Yeah, yeah, we're not starving in the streets at the hands of an oppressive regime or dying on the barricades. And honestly, both A. and I have managed to keep our sense of humor and sanity. But it's certainly been theatrical. The dramatis personae:
Yours Truly (as Fantine): Compelled to work long, extra hours prostituting myself for the advertising agency I work at, in hopes of winning some new business for the firm. The company is fundamentally strong, but like every business, feeling the pressure of the recession. On Monday, we found out we're all getting pay cuts (temporary, hopefully, and not too drastic, but still.) That same day, on the way home from work, the engine light in our 13-year-old Honda Civic went on. Yet again. We just can't justify putting any more money into a car with 169,000 miles on it. Meanwhile, I'm still plagued by clogged sinuses and ears and a sore throat; was officially diagnosed with an ear infection today. Surely tuberculosis and hallucinations can't be far off.
Clio (as Eponine): Throwing all-out, spirited, hoarse-voiced tantrums both before bedtime and in the middle of the night, repeatedly, over the last 3 nights. (Definitely not night terrors; more likely related to cold / sore throat / existential angst / etc.) In the throes of a tragic, unrequited love affair with having her way. She wants to be held. Put down. Rocked. Read to. Brought downstairs. Given water. Allowed to watch Curious George at 2am. Left alone. What a life she might have known! But we never saw her there......
Elsa (as Cosette): Madly in love with sleep. Parted from her true love by one obstacle after another: congestion, a cough, Clio screaming, and more Clio screaming. Desperately wishes she could go to a place where nobody shouts or talks too loud. And where she wouldn't have hives, which she had tonight. Don't know if it's due to the sickness or the fact that the sitter fed them mass quantities of almonds today (grrr.) We will be checking in frequently tonight. (But does it make me a bad person that I was sort of psyched for an excuse to give the girls Benadryl?)
Alastair (as Jean Valjean): Trying so hard to do right by the ones he loves and shake off the shame of his past. (Um....not really. But work with me here.) Getting up and holding Clio in the middle of the night. Rubbing Elsa's back. Putting up with the tantrums and two-ness while his wife is out prostituting herself so they can keep affording to buy diapers from Whole Foods. (The misery!!) All this, plus the relentless question an artist must constantly ask him or herself: "Who am I?"
The Cat (as Madame Thenardier): Absolutely no help at all. But she's willing to eat meat by-products, so we can't really complain.
Do you hear the people sing? Or is that Clio, waking up for her second tantrum of the evening? We are planning to call the pediatrician in the morning if tonight is equally mauvais. Also: anyone want to sell us a gently used car?
