I remember a few months ago, when I was talking to a friend about something book related, and I said that I just want everything to be perfect. She laughed and said, “Now, you want perfect. Once you have a baby, though, you’ll be happy just to keep your head above water.” I am finding out more and more that this is true, but GOD how I want things to just make sense once in awhile. Last night, the baby was up at 3:30 am. She hasn’t done that in over a month. Now, a normal person would probably just roll with this, saying, oh well, it’s just how it goes. But not me. I, of course, have to attack this mystery with the tenacity of NASA trying to land a moon module. There are theories, discussions, red herrings, magic bullets. I just can’t let it go, I’m CONVINCED that by doing something differently, I caused this. Or at least had a hand in it. And like a dog with a bone I will not leave it alone. It’s sick. My husband keeps saying, “There isn’t a reason for everything,” but man, is that hard for me to accept.
Maybe I need to go read The Truth About Forever again, and that will remind me to accept chaos as the natural state that is sometimes is. Or even better, maybe Wes can just appear on my doorstep, heart in hand, and teach me himself?
Anyway. In other news, Sasha had a true rite of passage the other day: her first trip to Sephora. I have been desperate for a new Stila lipstick and they were out of my favorite color online, so I bundled her up and off we went to the mall. My plan was just to get in and get out, but she was in a good mood, so we lingered a bit, cruising the aisles in the stroller. I swear, I love Sephora so much it’s sick. And as we were moving through the Stila section, I looked over at Sasha and she just had this look on her face: eyes kind of glazed over, mouth half open, drooling a bit and staring as the lipsticks and mascara and powders blurred past, and I thought, yep. That’s exactly how I feel. Minus the drooling. At least I hope so.
My husband just walked in the door with blueberry muffins from Panera. Oh, my God. Forget everything I said. All is now right with the world.