This weekend was my friend Karen's annual white elephant Christmas party, an event that was so much out-of-control fun last year that it gave me Clementine. Yep, although math is not my strong point, this time last year is when I unknowingly got pregnant, and since Karen's party was the event of the season (and one I'm a little hazy on, especially toward the end of the evening), I'm pretty sure that was the night I conceived--or I should say WE conceived, since I wasn't the only one in the room.
This year, Nate and I were determined to go and have the time of our lives, but we didn't know what to do with darling C. I have a former student who agreed to babysit, but we both felt strange being so far away for Clementine's first evening with a stranger and, truth be told, didn't relish the idea of leaving the party early to appear home sober and responsible in time for the sitter to make curfew. No problem, we thought. Let's just take her with us and crash on the couches in Karen's living room. We packed up her travel crib/playpen thingy, threw some clothes and diapers in a bag, brought a huge supply of untainted breast milk so I could drink and "pump and dump," and we were good to go.
As usual, Clementine had other plans. She was good at the beginning of the party, but when it was close to her usual bed time (11 p.m. if you believe it), she had a total meltdown. Infused with the party spirit (or the vodka cranberries Dave was mixing rather strong), I stayed in the party and let Nate bounce her around outside. This kept me from knowing how bad the meltdown really was until I heard her screaming and realized she had been doing so for nearly an hour and pretty much everyone at the party had heard her but me. In addition to feling like an asshole for ignoring her in front of all those people, I felt like I had toally abandoned Nate and let Clementine go to a dark, dark place while I sat inside and had fun. When I at last emerged, she had the reddest, puffiest eyes and the wettest face I'd ever seen. Her crying jag only got worse as I tried to take over, although she eventually fell asleep for a little while. She awoke much happier, although she then decided to delight us until 2 a.m. before finally falling asleep until 11 a.m. She's set herself on a college party schedule--we're just so proud.
I know these meltdowns are inexplicable, but I am nevertheless still trying to figure out the whys and hows. Is she teething? Is she sick? Was there an evil spirit at the party her keen babysense was aware of and we adults were not? She was a dear at brunch the next morning (I had my first margarita in over a year AND my first hangover) and for a while after that, but when we tried to get some Christmas shopping done, she freaked out in the car and spent the afternoon huddled with her dad at my friend Laura's house (we couldn't even make it home she was crying so hard) while I ran out to various stores to try to fill in holes on my list. And since then she has been alternately dazzling--all gums and grins and herky-jerky fun--and horrid. She's in some new bipolar phase that concerns me and frustrates Nate.
What can you do? She's a baby who knows what she wants, even if she can't communicate it. As much as I'm surprised by these bouts of the unexpected and sometimes horrible, I secretly marvel at her strong sense of what gets her going and what turns her off.
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