Underwater

It's an interesting phase we're in now. Mazin is testing the limits in every possible way. I call his name and he ignores me. I ask him nicely to do or stop doing something, and he ignores me. He seems to be trying to figure out the limits of my authority. He thinks: I don't like what she's saying to me--will it go away if I don't acknowledge it? Layla does the same thing, in her baby way. She can crawl pretty fast now, and so often the scene in the living room is this: Layla crawls toward something forbidden, like a truck with sharp edges. I pick her up and put her across the room. She reorients herself toward the truck and tries again. Repeat; repeat. It's a game. So is getting changed and getting dressed. She refuses to stay on her back for even one second--and she is strong! (Have you ever tried putting a diaper on a crawling baby? It's not much fun.) They both seem to consider my authority some sort of game. Which is usually fine, and I can play along, except when we really have to be somewhere or Mazin's behavior is seriously obnoxious or dangerous. Sometimes I feel resentful that I have to play the stern adult. I used to be the rule breaker! Now I'm forced to play the vegetable cop at dinnertime. No fair.

Lately I feel chronically tired. I'm not finding enough time to exercise, and Layla just cut two top teeth, so she has been very wakeful at night. I haven't woken up feeling rested in quite a few days. It's starting to wear me down. I have many things I'd like to do and errands I'd like to run--some of them related to seemingly basic tasks like clothing myself. (Most of my clothes are either too small or old and ratty, but I seem to have no chance to shop for new ones.) It's such a drag that simply going to the grocery store alone requires careful planning and coordination of schedules. Sometimes it feels like I'm moving through water, all of the time; sometimes I wish I could come up for air.