Being A Mommy Is Hard | Giftie Etcetera: Being A Mommy Is Hard

Monday, April 9, 2007

Being A Mommy Is Hard

At least, today it is. Ander cried for more than an hour in the wee hours of the morning. Alan ended up going sleep with him on the floor in his room because we are really trying to teach him that he cannot just join us in bed. My biggest problem with co-sleeping, all along, has been how to explain to a child who doesn't understand English yet that, yah, it was cool for you to cuddle with Mommy and Daddy until now, but you are now cut off and must sleep alone. He's getting way too big to co-sleep, and I am falling asleep driving to and from work because I am so sleep deprived. (Okay, the average person would find my 8 hours of sleep blissful - but I wake if Ander is in the bed and it's difficult for me to function on less than nine hours.)

About 6:30 or so, Alan woke me to take care of Ander. I made him a sippy cup of milk. (Praises to all that is holy - we have found a sippy cup that he likes!) I dressed him. I changed his clothes and stinky diaper. I fed him breakfast. I cleaned up after breakfast. I packed my water bottle for strollerfit, rinsed his sippy, and filled it with water for strollerfit. I made sure I had a snack for him in my purse, along with a diaper and wipes. I changed clothes. I turned the heater off and shut off the lights. I put him in his carseat.

MELTDOWN.

Apparently, the carseat was not acceptable to him. We drove away anyway.

We arrived a couple of minutes early for strollerfit. Everyone else arrived a couple of minutes late (which is actually kind of unusual). My head was pounding and I realized that in addition to no sleep, I had forgotten to eat breakfast. Excellent.

We worked out. Ander cried a whole bunch. All the stuff he normally likes, like when we do line runs across the basketball court and touch his feet everytime, made him grumble. Sigh.

On the way home, I stopped to donate stuff to Goodwill. Ander was sleeping in his carseat. Until he wasn't. SCREAMING ensued.

We finally got home. While I got ready, he slept. I couldn't find the lunch I had packed. My head was light and I was getting hungry. No worries - I have lots of allowance left. I'd pick up a salad on the way into work.

I go to get Ander out of the car at the restaurant. Major blowout. His outfit (notably too small, since I just grabbed something he had fit during the winter) was soakedand dirty. I changed him, stripped him, and wrapped him in a blanket. I picked up my salad, and suddenly remembered that my mom had told me she had leftovers for lunch, and that's what I was supposed to eat. Dammit.

At my mom's, between the time I dropped him off at 11:45 a.m., and me leaving at 11:50 a.m., he had two more explosive (but not soft) poops. I am so sick of dirty diapers, I could scream.

So now I'm at work. I don't have enough time to do everything I need to do. I'm tired. I'm on edge.

This sucks.

Etcetera.

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