Heave Ho! Thar She Blows!

by doodaddy on May 5, 2007

It’s Friday morning. I am dry-heaving into the kitchen sink while having a conversation with Boo.

“Hey, Boo, whaddaya want for breakfast?”

*heave*

“Yogurt? Pears? Berries?” Ginger ale? Pepto Bismol?

*heave*, *heave*

“Oh, Boo, Tupperware is for making music. Gentle with the cat, please!” Note the continued use of “positive” language — I can avoid saying “no” even while my tummy is in violent revolution.

*heave*, *heave*, *heave*

So why am I nauseated? Thai takeout last night? Or maybe…

  • Half a pack of cookies afterwards?
  • Most of a tin of peanuts beforehand?
  • Seven doughnuts and a milkshake from the day before?
  • All of the above, added to the weakening effects of two late-night blogging sessions?

At least I know where the headache is coming from: I can’t really stomach coffee just now, so I’m caffeine-deprived. I suppose I’ll never know exactly which disgusting overindulgence led to my pathetic attempt at emesis, but I think I know why I was overindulging in the first place: I was sort of depressed. (This may come as no surprise to those who’ve been there: half a pack of cookies + most of a tin of peanuts + seven doughnuts + milkshake = maybe needing a little food comfort?)

*heave*

*big nasty heave*

With today’s gastric distress I am reaping what I sowed all the way back on Wednesday. It was the last day of Grandma Boo’s visit, so I wanted to make the time count. I decluttered, I advised Grandma Boo, I made us lunch, I made lunch for Boo, kept everyone happy and engaged: in short, it was a busy but productive day.

Come evening, I was feelin’ good, thinking I’d taken care of everyone’s needs really well. Then Working Mom came home and told me not to give Fern oatmeal with dinner. It was a totally innocent remark — she wanted to wait until just before bedtime, because it helps little Boo sleep longer — but it made me feel judged, failing-as-a-parent, and like the hundred other things I had done right that day sort of didn’t count

So I dropped my mom off at the airport and ate seven Krispy Kremes on the way home. And the aforementioned vanilla milkshake. (I went inside the store because there’s a picture of our wedding cake on the wall. I’m not sure if that’s symbolic of something, but it feels like it might be.)

When I got home, we talked it over and I feel better (emotionally), but worse (gastrically). Still, I continue to be sensitive about my performance as a houseparent, because Thursday’s new “failure” (somehow, after all that laundry, no clean pajamas) led to the half-pound peanut orgy, topped off by the 14 chocolate-chip cookies.

*heave*

Just a little one this time. I think the Pepto’s kicking in.

Where does the confidence that I’m doing mostly the right things come from? Rationally, I think I’m doing a good job, and plenty of people seem to agree, but some days, one little critique can really kill my happy in a way it never could in the workaday world. And the worst critiques, of course, don’t come from anyone else, not even Working Mom, who is a completely supportive, appreciative partner.

They come from me.

Argh. After getting much more done on an average day than I ever did in a “normal” job, why do I let the fact that a few things slip by me cause me so much grief?


This entry is 50.1% female.

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tagged as in Challenges,doughnuts,failure,housework,stay-at-home dad ·

{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }

homegrownlife May 6, 2007 at 6:25 pm

Oh the things we choose to reward (or punish) ourselves with as parents! Sometimes it’s food or perhaps something even sillier (I recently posted about my silly reward!). It’s just part of it all. Sometimes the world doesn’t give us the props we need. So it’s only right that part of our “self-care” involve “self-rewarding”…

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doodaddy May 8, 2007 at 1:08 am

Yeah, I know… My “moments of weakness” are definitely coming more frequently these days!

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