one of those days

WARNING: The contents of this post contain graphic amounts of self-pity.

Since transitioning into a toddler bed my son, the former superstar sleeper, now gets out of bed at the slightest surge of consciousness, when in a crib he would have just rolled over and gone back to sleep. I know all of my friends with kids his age are laughing at me right now because it seems like all other toddlers wake up at the crack of dawn. But it’s hard to go from a kid who sleeps until 10 to one that’s up at 7. That’s three whole hours of work I could have gotten done.

So today’s parental duties began way too early in my opinion. By his nap time I was already exhausted so I was relieved that I only had to put him back in bed twice this time instead of 10 or 47 times like I have the past few days. I got a little work done but then received a worrisome phone call from my mom saying that she has to see a cardiologist tomorrow for a possible heart problem. She’s known for days but didn’t call me until now because she knew I would stress out about it. So now I feel guilty and stressed. I’m already worrying about my sister-in-law who is in the hospital pregnant with high-risk twins, my brother who doesn’t have a job, my dad who is still recovering from a broken heel, and now my mom.

Just then Liam emerged from his room and I was about to tell him it was still nap time when I realized it had been two hours and I hadn’t even had my shower yet. Ok, back on duty. I took him to the bathroom only to discover the toilet was plugged up, but I didn’t have time to deal with it so I sat him down on it anyway. Then I heard a car outside. My friend, who was coming to help me watch him later while I went to a work meeting, was at the door. I had told her the wrong time and she was here at 2:30 instead of 4:00. I was horribly embarrassed, not only because I had wasted her time but also because it was 2:30 and I was still in my pajamas.

As I was bringing Liam his lunch he threw the tray of his antique wooden high chair onto the ground for the last time and it split in half. Already feeling weepy about my parents getting older I started crying because it had been my Dad’s chair when he was little. So I sat him at the big table and served him his chicken stir fry with rice. He picked at it while I vacuumed the car which was so full of sand from the beach that I was going to loose my mind if I had to sit in there one more time. I came back inside to a child screaming “done mommy” and a floor covered in rice. After cleaning that up I locked him in the bathroom with me so I could keep an eye on him while showering. The shower drain was plugged up too, which I also didn’t have time to deal with now. I had 15 minutes to try and make myself presentable for my meeting. I ironed my clothes and then straightened my hair with one hand while holding him back with the other so he didn’t try to “help” me and burn himself. Somewhere between finishing my hair and putting on my makeup he decided that if the shower and toilet were both plugged, he might as well make it 3-for-3 and shove toilet paper down the sink. Then while I was getting dressed he dumped out a million puzzle pieces on the floor. I had a pair of espadrille heels that were fraying badly on the rope trim so I tried to get one last wear out of them by trimming the frayed parts off. “I help Mommy”, he cried as he brought out the play scissors from his doctor’s kit and started “cutting” my shoes for me. He then got a pair of his own shoes and pretended to cut them as well. I could see where this was going. “No, we don’t cut our shoes”, I told him, hypocrisizing myself.

I was ready now but in the fluster I had accidentally told my friend the wrong time again so she wasn’t here yet. She had left a text message to check if 4:30 was really the right time. I frantically texted her back and asked her to come right away. I am so thankful she is easy-going and put up with my absent-mindedness. She arrived. I took off. Work meeting was hectic but ok. I finally got back home with Liam and remembered I had told Phil he could go golfing after work. It was 7:15 and I was starving because I never ate lunch, Liam was starving because he had dumped his on the floor, and I had no patience or energy left to cook. Liam asked for some of “Daddy’s cereal” so I gave in and that was our dinner. I am too embarrassed to admit what kind of cereal it was but I’ll say that Liam has never had it before now and we tell him “it’s only for Daddy.” Except now he has a taste for it so I’m probably in trouble. Now it’s 8:15 but I’m not putting him to bed yet because I want him to see Phil when he gets home, which should be any minute now. Instead I am writing this while Liam “does the dishes” (aka: stands on a stool and sprays the counters down with the faucet attachment). Please don’t report me to CPS.

good thing he put his rain boots on

NOTE TO MY MOM: Sorry for the disappointing blog post. I don’t blame you for my bad day. I promise tomorrow I will go back to writing about how cute your grandson is and how happy our life is. It really is. We just have these kind of days sometimes. I love you.