Holding…and Release

July 2, 2010 at 12:12 am 14 comments

One of my favorite Saturday Night Live sketches of all time is a completely random one from back in 2003 with Ray Romano. He plays an aging Vegas comedian named Marv “The Spuds” Crackzar, and after every joke he would say “Holding…holding…holding…AND RELEASE.” I usually don’t find Ray Romano too funny, but that little detail was (and is) inordinately amusing to me, and I would really love to share it with you, but because NBC is a bitch, I cannot find a clip of it anywhere, so this tiny picture is all I have to offer:


You happy now, bitch NBC?!

I love that sketch so much, in fact, that I seemed to have passed on the HOLDING…AND RELEASE gene to Sadie, in that she routinely holds her shit together for the entire eight hours of daycare each day, only to release a shitstorm of cranky tantrumness when we pick her up in the evenings.

For real. I mean, it’s very cute and all, but…for real.

It’s even more pronounced when I’m on single parent duty, as I was this week while Brad was in NYC for a few days. She was all smiles when I’d pick her up, but by the time we got home, it was tantrum after tantrum after throwing-all-her-goldfish-crackers-on-the-floor-and-then-crushing-them-with-her-adorable-little-shoes tantrum. And — I ain’t gonna lie — after an entire day at work chomping at the bit to pick her up from daycare and spend those few precious hours of the evening with her, having her act completely miserable towards me was tough. I’m pretty sure she does have another molar coming in, so that could have been part of the problem, but then how does she manage to be 100% tantrum-free at daycare all day long? When I ask her teachers if she ever fusses at diapers changes or tries to bite them out of frustration, they look at me like I’ve got a unicorn sprouting out of my ass. “Sadie is so mellow,” they always say. “She never gets upset. She smiles all day long.” But at night, she behaves as though I’m severing her limbs during nightly diaper changes, and on Tuesday night during an ill-fated evening walk when I tried to STOP HER FROM RUNNING INTO TRAFFIC? She bit me. Three times. REALLY HARD.

It seems I am raising the Marv Albert of babies.

It’s difficult, because on the one hand I KNOW she’s just tired out of her mind and so completely DONE with sharing and being nice and all the other crap she has to do at daycare. And I try to be understanding, because I know she’s not intentionally taking my dream of a lovely summer evening at home with my baby and biting it to shreds, but man. I thought we had at least 12 more years before she started acting like I was ruining her life on a daily basis.

I’d better hurry up and find a handkerchief and some cat’s eye glasses to wear. And Brad had better hurry up and become a middle-aged black man.

No worries, though.* Tomorrow is my Friday at home with her, wherein I get to see RealSadie (i.e., smiling from ear-to-ear Sadie) all day long, followed by a long holiday weekend with the self-same awesome shorty. Although I do plan to see if Old Navy is carrying anything in chain mail this summer.

OK, I’ve had a little bit of wine, but I submit that Disembodied Chain Mail Head is possibly one of the most entertaining things I’ve ever seen.

*Guess what! I totally got a callback for that play! And although I still feel a little weird about voluntarily trying to be a part of something that will make my life incredibly difficult/take me away from my adorable little Chompy McNOMNOMNOM in the evenings, I am pretty fucking proud of myself. Apparently my Australian accent is somewhat decent after all. Quick! Someone buy me a Bloomin’ Onion!

Actually, don’t. Those things weird me out. It looks like someone deep-fried a fucking chrysanthemum.

Entry filed under: Gobble-gobble.


14 Comments Add your own

  • 1. Holly Jane  |  July 2, 2010 at 1:48 am

    Have you ever been alone in a room with a bloomin’ onion? You will do terrible things to it. And end up in the ER insisting you “fell on it” in the shower.

    Or, you know, just eat it and get fat, like I do.

  • 2. Alyce  |  July 2, 2010 at 9:23 am

    You know those chain-mail gloves they make for chefs so that they can chop away without risking a finger? Maybe you need a pair.
    And I’m with you on the bloomin’ onion. Weird. Though that might be appropriate at a Japanese funeral.

  • 3. Constantina  |  July 2, 2010 at 10:51 am

    Huh, Arlo only ever bites me with a smile on his face. Is that… better…?

    He’s tantrumish too, but in a more equal opportunity way. I know very well his sitters see his adorable screamy fits.

    I have had no wine and disembodied chain mail head is indeed pretty funny. I look forward to viewing again WITH wine.

  • 4. FoST  |  July 2, 2010 at 11:14 am

    Yay! Congrats on the call back!!!

    Boo for the biting….I obviously have no advice on how to quell that stuff. Although my mom loves to tell the story of how my dad got me to stop biting him…he bit me back.

  • 5. shelli  |  July 2, 2010 at 11:34 am

    first – off – SO bummed we couldn’t get brad into Fences. 😦

    Secondly – welcome to my future daughter in law being on the cusp of a developmental explosion – typically, yes, they DO totally hold their shit together only to release it with us – the “safe space,” as it were. Noah Matan is ramping up, as well, and he’s about to explode verbally – we can feel it – and in fact, he’s getting better at saying Malka’s name, instead of that cave-man grunty-whiney-pointy thing. OY.

    They (the little fracking cherubs), are frustrated that they can’t do what their brains are telling them to do, so they lose their shit with us.

    Good times.

    Hugs, and beer.

  • 6. shelli  |  July 2, 2010 at 11:35 am

    PS – Malka was a biter.

    She outgrew it.

  • 7. Maggie  |  July 2, 2010 at 12:51 pm

    I call this getting the left-overs. My daughter is fun and sweet and happy all day at daycare and then I get the leftovers at the end of the day when I get home. It sucks. My son also does this sometimes in the evenings although since he’s 7.5, it happens less often, but it still happens. Nothing makes me hate having to work full time more than getting the leftovers because it’s not fair and it sucks and I’d like to throw a tantrum about it…

  • 8. Kelly  |  July 2, 2010 at 7:42 pm

    Congrats on the call back!

    I think it’s a universal thing. Kids save ALL their shit for you. Whether I’m picking up the preschooler or the elementary school kid, it’s the same. Meltdown. They need to release their stress, and we’re the ones to have to deal with it. Which blows.

    Totally blows.

  • 9. sweetbird  |  July 3, 2010 at 8:41 am

    The only plus side of a Bloomin’ Onion is that if you eat one you don’t have to bother with eating for at least three days. Bonus: Instant myocardial infarction!

  • 10. 4th Reader of Said Turkey  |  July 3, 2010 at 9:37 am

    Yay for a callback! I was just going to ask if you’d heard anything.

    At the Big Fancy Juried Arts Festival we had here last weekend (at which I bought actual Art…I’m like a grown-up now) there was a booth exhibiting chain mail. Like really fine mesh chain mail that people apparently actually wear. (Maybe it was just that one artist who makes it who actually wears it, but still…) There was a tunic-y dress thing, and some sort of like scarves, and a choker-type necklace thing. It was very pretty, but…kinda weird.

  • 12. kristin @ going country  |  July 6, 2010 at 9:32 am

    Oh goody–biting. Something to look forward to.

  • 13. Mermanda  |  July 6, 2010 at 3:57 pm

    Sadie and I are kindred spirits. I too bit my mother. Except I was 18 at the time. (She was trying to administer ear drops to me post-perforation repair. Not a good idea, it turns out.)

  • 14. Suniverse  |  July 7, 2010 at 8:22 am

    Congrats on the call back.

    If it’s any consolation, the reason she saves her cranky bite-y time for you is that she trusts you enough to release. You are her safety zone, and that means she can unload.

    Great in theory, but not so much when you’re trying to change a diaper.

    Good luck.


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