Holding…and Release

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:

Sad.

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.