Jaded Optimist

Mothering, making, and generally blathering on

With a few apologies to Judith Viorst June 21, 2008

Filed under: Personal — bonniep @ 11:44 pm

When I woke up it was only 6 am and the baby was still sleeping but my body needed to nurse and also I had to go to the bathroom and I could tell it was going to be a no good very bad day.

Then when I fell back asleep the baby woke up and wanted to nurse and I sat with her in the rocking chair and listened to G snore for an hour because he can’t wear his CPAP machine due to a bad cold and listening to snoring sucks.

I think I’ll move to Australia.

Then when the baby fell back asleep and I climbed back into bed G got up to shower and left the bathroom door open so I could hear the water running and then C woke up as well and came and climbed into the bed and wanted to play with the baby, and surprise the baby woke up—and spit up all over the bed. I was having a terrible, no good, very bad day.

G got out of the shower and did make breakfast for C and himself—but did not clean up after any of it. I made my own breakfast, which I ate while holding a fussy baby who spit up again. C didn’t want to color, play the memory game, go to a playground, or read books. She only wanted to watch the Wubbulous World of Dr. Seuss video from the library—with me and G. G promptly fell asleep on the couch because *he* was so tired. The Wubbulous World of Dr. Seuss is not really high quality programming.

I searched the internet for tickets to Australia.

Then I did get to take a shower and M didn’t fall asleep in her bouncy seat until the very end and woke up when the water turned off and I couldn’t even go to the bathroom in peace because C wanted me to look at the picture of a princess that she drew. And then she wanted me to play some game she made up where one of us is the dancer and one is the person who gets a present and I wanted to be the dancer, but no C was the dancer, and M would not fall asleep in the swing. G “had to work” but I am pretty sure most of that time was spent organizing a night out with the guys.

Finally I convinced everyone we should leave the house and after changing M’s onesie *again* we got into the car, and as we drove I could hear M spitting up in the backseat. And G kept saying “What’s wrong? Are you having a bad day? You seem really anxious.” And at the sporting goods store C decided to stand on a bucket and fell off and hurt her butt and wanted me to kiss it to make it feel better. And then we drove to Ruby’s Diner for lunch because they have cardboard cars for kids and the baby fell asleep on the drive there but woke up as soon as we placed our order, spit up, and then was hungry. And the booth is too narrow to really nurse in. So G ate while I changed the baby in the bathroom and then G walked the baby around outside while I shoveled my food down and C insisted she wasn’t hungry anymore and really wanted to be with daddy not with me. She would miss me if I was in Australia.

So I sat outside the Starbucks to nurse M while G went to get me a grande nonfat cappuccino and cookie, but he forgot and got a tall cappuccino and the Starbucks didn’t have chocolate chip cookies so it was peanut butter. And C had whined loudly in the Starbucks because she wanted a cinnamon roll because NOW she was hungry, although for the chicken fingers five minutes before she was too full. And then G broke the cookie in half and gave half to me and half to C and then he took a bite of her half and she burst into loud tears and G said “why is she crying” and C said “because you aaaaaattte my cooooookie” and G said “I am going to the garden center and I will check in on you three later.”

Wait….I hope there is Starbucks in Australia.

As soon as he walked away C’s tears escalated into sobs and shouts because she wanted a SNACK and she wanted a CINAMMON ROLL and she was SO HUNGRY and the baby was spitting up and it was hot and people were staring at us. And G had left so I didn’t have the keys to the car, and no stroller or sling—just the baby in her three hundred pound carseat. By now C was completely covered in tears and people were really looking and commenting and I had to get everything in the diaper bag and the baby in the car seat before we could leave and then carry the bag, the carseat, my coffee, and C’s milk, and somehow hold her hand to walk to the garden center and now she was crying harder and harder because her “nose was drippy” and she was sure I had a free hand to get her a tissue.

I was pretty sure G was having a better day.

So then we made it to the garden center and they only have flatbed carts which are no good for carseats and the place is huge and we can’t find G and we walk by the restrooms and C insists she does not have to go. And I have blood blisters all over my arm from carrying that stupid carseat hooked over it. And then we do find G and he goes to get the stroller out of the car and meet us by herbs, but then C DOES have to go to the bathroom and RIGHT AWAY MOMMY! and of course someone NOT handicapped is in the big stall so C has to go with the door open since I can’t wedge me and the baby in her carrier into the stall. When we finally meet up with G he has a cart full of plants and I can hardly see because my eyes are so swollen and itchy from hay fever.

I bet I won’t have hay fever in Australia.

So we check out with the roses and herbs and realize that there isn’t room for all of them in the car with me and the kids, so G takes the plants home and I need to walk the girls around freaking Woodinville for an hour while he makes the roundtrip back to get us. The baby’s outfit was soaked, but it was already the backup outfit from the diaper bag. We walked through a park where C picked up dirty pinecones while I nursed M and breathed in increasing amounts of pollen and then C wanted me to dance for her and I ran out of kleenex and old napkins for my hayfever and finally we met G at the bookstore and I was able to use the restroom with just *one* kid and get a drink of water from a fountain that sprayed my entire shirt with water, and that’s when I noticed all the spit up down my pants. And we drove home and I had twenty minutes to make dinner except C was asleep in the car and M was hungry again and wet and the whole wheat tortillas that were going to be our side dish were all moldy because everything immediately molds in this climate. And I spilled on my shirt and the house was hot but I can’t open the windows because it aggravates my hay fever. And G was leaving for a guys night out but somehow had time to start a World of Warcraft quest on the computer even as the baby cried, the laundry piled up, and the stove timer was going off.

This was really a terrible, no good, very bad day. And G pointing out again “you seem really anxious” WAS NOT HELPING.

So he left, and I stuck C in the bath while putting M in her *eighth* outfit of the day and trying to do another load of laundry. And M decided that she was overtired right then and cried through C’s entire bath and the only thing that makes her happy is nursing but that is hard to do while bathing C, especially because no water can ever touch C’s eyes. And then M nursed while I read C her story and then M woke up and promptly spit up all over my neck and down my shirt. And maybe, just maybe the end of this no good day was in sight.

So M cried a bit more until I could get her swaddle clothes out of the dryer and on the way from my room to the laundry I discovered C was out of bed because she had to poop…and guess who gets to wipe it? And then finally it was 9:30 and C was in bed, and M was in bed, and I had a nice night of laundry, dishes, and cleaning spit up off the car seat to look forward to. And when that was done, I frittered my free time away dorking around on the web and blogging.

Sigh. I bet G and the kids would follow me to Australia.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s