Dear Whelmed, I'm Over You

For the kiddo's birthday, we took him to the National Harbor to see the colored ice sculptures depicting Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas. It was interesting to see some of his other art displayed as well as watch as much as the kiddo would handle of the video showing how the ice sculptures themselves were made. The ice itself was very cool (ha! They do in fact give you your very own parka to put on over your coat because it's a balmy 9 degrees in there) - and the ice slides (exactly what it sounds like) quite fun. The best part, though, was at the end where they have an ice nativity with sheep and shepherds and wise men and and audio recording explaining that the true meaning of Christmas is really about the birth of a King - with the whole gospel story right there for everyone leaving the whimsy. Delightful.

Afterward, we (and all the grandparents) headed to the Gaylord National for lunch. Except that apparently because they knew reservations were down they had most of the restaurants closed, so we had the option of the sports bar or the sports bar. We chose the sports bar. And ended up paying $15 each for a hamburger that I would have happily paid $6.50 for. Oh well, it's the experience, right?

Because the doodle is all about the hotel these days, we had decided to stay the night as a treat for him. So we tucked him in for his nap in the hotel bed and afterward we walked around the waterfront for a bit before attending some of the activities in the atrium they have in the evening (a light/music/fountain show, snow fall, etc.) The kiddo enjoyed climbing on "The Awakening" statue that they moved from Haines Point (in DC) to the beach there at the National Harbor. We saw the Peeps Store (yes, there is a Peeps store!) And had dinner at Potbelly (all 3 ate more than was available for lunch, yummier, hotter, and faster for about the price of one burger.)

When it was bedtime, we tucked him in and Tim and I sat in the dark doing various things by the light of our laptops. (When all is said and done, if I'd known there was a Hampton Inn across the street, we'd've stayed there where, for the same price as our room at the Gaylord, we could have had a suite and actually been able to stay up with the lights on.) And when we finally decided to sleep ourselves, I ended up just tossing and turning for the bulk of the night.

I feel unprepared for what's coming. The PhD study - though I've done my part and now, really, it's in the hands of the instructors - but in the middle of the night my acceptance of lack of response as a good thing turned into anxiety that they're all thumbing their nose at me and laughing because they have no intention of actually helping me anymore. I agreed to teach two classes this term, one of which I have not taught before, and really I need the stress of that like I need a lobotomy (though I guess one could argue that by agreeing to this I've proven that, in fact, the lobotomy might not be such a bad idea.) We're having  a little birthday party with friends on Saturday and I've really not done anything for this yet - and on the one hand, I don't really intend to do a ton, he's only 3, but on the other hand, I'm feeling like I should be doing more. (Why? Not sure - perhaps because I like to stress myself out. That's Tim's thought.) Then you add in the whole MOPS crafts stuff and how I'm changing things at the last minute because of how I think people are going to react to the original idea and, frankly, I'm so tired of people kvetching about the craft and never hearing anything positive that I've seriously considered just telling people that unless they are going to say something uplifting and kind they can just shove off - but of course, the last minute changes are stressful as well. And beyond that, I kind of am feeling like for all Tim's been off for the past week and a half, I haven't really had a chance to just catch my breath.

And so I find myself exhausted, short-tempered, and grouchy (yes, they're different.) And that's not really how I had wanted to start off my year. Is it too late (early?) to call Mulligan?