And then around 3 p.m., when I was sending her off to see a movie with her dad, the first temper tantrum happened. It was a minor one - she wanted to bring her headphones so she could listen to music in the literally five-minute drive to the theater, and I said no, it's a short drive, just talk to your dad. That got arms crossed, feet stomping, and a big ol' pout, but it was fleeting, because then they were off and I had a few minutes to breathe (and rest - yep, still exhausted, still needing naps).
When they got back, it was later than expected and I was trying to get dinner on the table. They had tickets to a play that night and we were bringing the daughter of a friend who's around Mini-Hope's age. The friend's daughter arrived and that's when Mini-Hope started showing off, making snarky comments toward me and her dad, being difficult about the food on her plate. Meanwhile, friend's daughter is eating everything and declaring, "This is so delicious!" and not in an Eddie Haskell-y kind of way, either.
So, really, she was kind of underscoring Mini-Hope's bad behavior without even realizing she was doing it.
After dinner, I ship the three of them off, and see as Mini-Hope refuses to sit in the front seat with her dad. She wants to sit in the backseat so she can play on her phone. I personally do not believe that girls her age need or should even have smartphones, but I lost that battle. Her mom wanted to be the hero, so she was.
I spent the night apart from them but we arrived home at the same time. Mr. Hope confessed that he let Mini-Hope get dessert after the play, even though we'd gone for ice cream earlier in the day. He said, "I couldn't say no! All of the other kids were doing it!" To which Mini-Hope turned to me and gave me the smuggest little grin you can possibly imagine. Her mistake? Letting Mr. Hope see it, too.
It was one of those moments - my eyes open in horror as I realize what teenagerdom is going to bring me with this kid, and Mr. Hope's horror in realizing just how bratty Mini-Hope can be. He said, "Don't you dare, Mini-Hope! I saw that look. You wipe that look from your face right this second." Busted!
So okay, that was gratifying. And to be honest, this was the worst of things. I mean, after we went into the house, I ended up cleaning up the kitchen by myself (Mr. Hope was in the bathroom, Mini-Hope slack-jawed in front of the TV). The next day we discovered that she doesn't have any chores at home, nor does she earn an allowance. I told her that if she came to stay with us for a week this summer, she'd have chores but at the end of the week she'd earn an allowance, because that's how things work at our place. She seemed amenable to that.
And then our weekend got cut short because Mini-Hope's mom decided she wanted to get the hand off done as soon as possible, even though we'd planned to decorate Easter Eggs before taking her back. So that kind of sucked. But overall it was a decent visit. I mean, the kid is 10; of course there are going to be flashes of brat. That's what happens with kids her age.
Honestly, the biggest problem this weekend was my inability to stay awake for more than a few hours at a time. I'm seriously exhausted.
I've also been spotting a little. I hesitate to even call it spotting because really, it's just a smidge of that brown-tinged mucus, and it's only in the morning and only when I wipe. I'm starting to think it's my cervix being irritated by the suppositories, just because it's only happening in the AM. But of course every morning I get totally freaked out by it. And then the heartburn flares up and I chew a couple of Tums and that's that.
Tomorrow's the big day. I'm not going to lie - I'm scared. I just want the u/s over with. I want to know this embryo has everything it needs to become a baby. And then I want to know that my numbers are good so I can exhale a little more deeply.
I want to know that I'm okay. That this jellybean is okay.