Don't push ...

I'm a woman on the edge.

We'd been talking about Mr. P going to Dallas with some buddies in December. Kind of a belated birthday celebration, I suppose. And I truly want to him to go and have fun. After all, it's not his fault I'm tethered to a nursing baby ... but I also resent the hell out of him for it. Especially when I found out he'd booked the trip — and it's Friday to MONDAY. I said, "Great, but you owe me big time for this." And he, Mr. Funny, said, "Huh-uh. You had your trip booked and didn't go. You missed your chance."

Oh, you mean the to-DC-and-back-in-one-day trip I had planned — TAKING BIGGA BIT WITH ME — that I had to cancel because Bigga cracked his skull and couldn't fly? Because I was worried I didn't have enough milk pumped and didn't want to strand you with a screaming, hungry baby? AND because I was sick? THAT trip?!

His attempt at levity was met with a silence so cold I'm surprised he didn't shiver. That's right. I'm so close to losing it, my sense of humor already packed its bags and left. Well, I guess he finally realized just how fragile my remaining sanity is, because he leapt into action and planned an afternoon of pampering at a spa in the city with my dear friend. A head-to-toe package with a massage, facial, manicure and pedicure. AND dinner. AND I'm spending the night at her place.

He even got me a sweet card, created a little certificate explaining the plan and slipped the card in with the mail. But naturally I just grabbed the usual pile of catalogs and junk out of the mailbox and chucked it all on the entryway table. "Anything good in the mail?" he said. "Oh, I don't know," I replied, dashing his hopes of an extra bit of surprise. "I didn't look through it."

Other than running errands on Fridays when I have a babysitter, I can literally count the hours — if it even adds up to hours — I've had to myself in the last six months. So I'm really looking forward to a bit of me-time. In all honesty, it won't fix what ails me. I'm so tired and disorganized and uninspired, and I know that in the end it's really up to me to get myself out of this funk. But a day at the spa ain't a bad way to start.