Cranky Friday

The mom tank is down to fumes today and I've noticed a distinct increase in whininess from my darling little girl as well. It made me wonder if there's something about Fridays. I notice my crankiest posts have been written on Fridays and if you ask Brian he will probably agree that most of my plaintive phone calls for him to come home early are on Fridays. As the time of Hannah's mornings seem to be inversely proportional to her age, by the time Friday rolls around I'm usually a bear and am reliant on an unhealthy amount of coffee. Now, I'm a scientist, so I thought it through and the only logical conclusion is that the problem is me - I'm tired after a long week and really looking forward to the hallowed tradition of the Saturday morning sleep in. I say hallowed because it's sacred. SACRED. To everyone in the house but Hannah and Brian. But the dog is on my side.

Take last Friday. It is a testament to Hannah's sweetness that it wasn't until she was seven months that she learned how to really drive me insane. The WHINING. Very uncharacteristic. Can't imagine who she got it from. So she whined all day. It was raining. Stella was on a course of prednisone for her lupus (some time I will tell you about all the obscure ailments that Stella has been victim to - including the $3000 bladder infection - but this time it's doggy lupus) which makes her hungry. She eyed me all day with a feral desperation that said that I was one scold away from being a giant milk bone. The goddamn internet kept cutting out. The internet is my lifeline to other adults - after a couple hours without internet I start to shake and would stage a home invasion on the neighbours if I thought they had wireless. And do you THINK I could LEAVE THE HOUSE just ONCE without forgetting SOMETHING that requires me to run back inside AFTER I've locked the door? And why why WHY does the bottle warmer use STEAM to warm bottles? Don't they know that steam burns more than hot water due to the LATENT HEAT OF EVAPORATION OF WATER FOR FUCK SAKES?? AND WHY DOES MY HOUSE SMELL LIKE ONIONS?!?!? Brian got home at 6:30 and he got a baby thrust into his arms and I ran. RAN. Drove to the sushi place to meet friends, where the host made me wait until my entire party was assembled. And I swear to God if the owner came within ear shot he was going to get it, sushi knife be damned.

Last week we all survived. This week, I preemptively went for a swim on Thursday to work out the cobwebs, so today I was happy as a clam. But Hannah, after her afternoon nap, was not. WHAT THE. OK, so now I'm starting to wonder. This behaviour belies the pattern - if I'm happy, but she's not, then it's HER, NOT ME. I KNEW IT! My poor sweet girl. Is it a tooth? Is it gas? Or is it just Friday?

All right Hannah. Just for you we will get into the car and drive to Mr. Sub for a foot long pizza sub. But I won't enjoy it.