That is the only way to describe the me-ness of this morning. Hubby got up at the butt-crack of dawn to go golfing with friends on his day off. Neat. I got up like normal and was actually in less of a rush to get out the door than usual, but as I was about to lock the front door, babe in arm, one thing flashed across my mind: TAMPONS.
EF. I needed to put more tampons in my purse.
Because I’m uber-organized in the morning and have a routine of baby in high chair, make breakfast, and run things we need out to the car so when it’s time to go, I literally just have my keys and the kid to carry out the door, my purse was already in the car. Liam was already in my arms. I didn’t want to start the routine all the way back over again. So I just ran from the front door to the bathroom and shoved four tampons in my cleavage. You heard me right – my cleavage. The girls are no longer nursing a baby, so they have to serve some purpose, right? Why not securing four cotton-tails for mommy’s monthly friend? Works for me.
So I run back to the front door, tampons-in-boob, lock it, and turn toward the car… Liam notices the tampons and grabs not one, but two and starts waving them around, squealing in delight. Said squeal alerts neighbors getting into their car next door. Oh, hey there, neighbors – don’t mind me – running to my car, carrying a kid, tampons erupting from the top of my dress, which are now being thrown on the ground by my child…
TOTAL. AWESOMENESS. Happy Thursday.
Over the weekend, I visited the bestie with Liam. We had a blast! Went to the zoo, played in water, ate his first Popsicle, and then… got a fever. Boo! I stayed home from work to be with him on Monday when we returned from our weekend getaway. Liam was like, border-line not feeling good. Slight fever, still playing, but super irritable. If the kid tripped over a toy, OMG – END OF THE WORLD. We had lots of hugs and snuggles.
Then, after nap, he just lost it. Like completely lost it. I had been attributing his slight fever and off-kilter attitude to teething, but holy shit kid, he threw an epic fit and screamed at me for 1.5 hours. I’m not kidding. Couldn’t put him down, wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t drink, wouldn’t do anything but scream and cry. It was so sad! And not gonna lie, it was frustrating at the same time. I finally caved and called the doctor – made an appointment for later in the afternoon, just to make sure it wasn’t his ears or something more serious. Then I broke down and we watched Sesame Street together until it was time to go.
The doctor is 25 minutes away. He was not exactly a peach in the car. But when we got there, my child, who less than 30 minutes before could have been the stunt double for the shower chick in the movie Pyscho, was suddenly giggling and flirting with the nurses.
Yup. Totally fine. Glad we went to make sure, but THANKS, kid. Duped by a one-year-old.
I can just hear him singing happily, “Haha! Got you, mommy!”
Liam is 15 months old. I should be used to this baby thing by now. But I realized this morning, while changing a massive and disgusting bean burrito diaper, that there is one new-mom thing I still do ALL. THE. TIME: freak out at the diapers.
Every time my kid poops, I say a variation of the following:
“What happened down there, Liam!?”
“WOW – seriously, dude?”
“How did you make this much poop!?”
“OH. EM. GEEEEEEE.”
I’m not used to poop yet. But I have gotten good at holding my nose. 🙂
Well, last week it was poop in the bathtub. This week, it was puke.
Yup. I said it. Puke in the tub. It happened so fast I still can’t believe what I did… .5 seconds after the clump of half digested dinner came out of my son’s mouth and splashed into the water I dove right in like a champ and scooped it up in my hands. Once I had it, I was like “uhh… what the hell do I do now?” If I transferred it from tub to toilet I risked dripping baby spit up all over the bathroom rug and floor. But I couldn’t put it back in the tub water! It was a “clean” save, so to speak.
So I just sat there for a moment, letting the water drip between my fingers while containing the puke clump and playing defense from Liam while he tried desperately to see what mom was hiding in her hands. Then I did the toilet transfer. And washed my hands. Twice.
Yeah, me! 🙂