One of those Days

Do you ever have one of those days? Those days where no matter what you do or try to do nothing (and I do mean NOTHING) goes the way it should?

Yeah.

It started at 4am. The Boy woke up at 3:45 to eat so I fed him and was in the process of changing his diaper when he pooped all over me, the changing table, himself...in short it was a pooptastrophe, it was pooperiffic, pooptastic, poop to the end of time. So I did what any rational person would do at 4am. I got the Husband out of bed to help me. He was awake anyway so it wasn't a huge sacrifice. (Krista, he said he had some weird dream in which you and Evan figured prominently.)

Anyway, after cleaning up the mess and getting back in to bed and then hearing about the Husband's weird dreams I didn't really get back to sleep.

The boy woke up again around 6:30 so I fed him again and then really couldn't go back to sleep (but he did!) so I just got up. I cleaned the apartment, ran a load of laundry, ate breakfast and puttered around.

The Husband woke up at 8 and did some reading for school...the Boy woke up around 9 and ate again. And then...oh, internets, I decided that today we would start the cloth diapering. Yes, internets...of all the crazy ideas we have come up with, this would be one of them. (Or you might all think it is, the Husband and I have our reasons for doing it and we would appreciate it if you all remembered the Burnstopia motto of Live and Let Live--remember, I've had a crappy day...no pun intended.) (And today was decided upon because we're nearly out of disposable diapers and the Boy is nearly 2 months old...it just seemed like a good time to make the transition.) Anyway, I got the Boy diapered up and dressed for the day and he was not remotely happy about it. But then, I consider this one of those life lessons that it's never to early to teach--we're not always going to be happy with the way that things are. So, we suck it up and take one for the team. My issue with the cloth diapering is that the Husband did a good deal of WATCHING me change diapers and not much actual CHANGING of the diapers. (People, I don't get it. Poop is poop--it's all gross whether it's in a disposable diaper or a cloth one...all gross. It's one of those nasty jobs that has to be done. And really, once you've cleaned up a blow-out or a pooptastrophe like this morning, you've essentially cleaned up a cloth diaper--only with more spray-age.)

Which brings me up to 10am. The boy goes down for a morning nap. On a good day this lasts for 2 hours. Today? 20 minutes. And he would not could not Sam I Am go back to sleep. So he stayed awake to fuss at me and remind me that I am an amateur and he is the Mini-Dictator of Burnstopia, thankyouverymuch.

More feeding him through the day...More Husband reading for school (which I don't mind, it's important to me that he works hard and succeeds...but remember, I've been AWAKE since 4am for all intents and purposes and I've been UP since 6:45. I am tired.

So, the lovely hour of 1pm comes. The Boy is fed and clean and goes down for his afternoon nap. Again, on a good day this can last for 3 hours! Or more! I can get stuff DONE! But today? 45 minutes. And he would not could not Sam I Am go back to sleep. I finally just set him down in his pack and play at 2:30 and went to eat some lunch.

The Husband abandoned ship at 3:30 for a meeting on campus and the Boy fell asleep at 4pm. I thought, "Hallelujah! He'll really sleep now!" HAHAHAHAHA! Yeah. 45 minutes later... WAAAAAAAAAAH. Aaaaaaand we're back up. He fussed and fussed and fussed while I cooked and ate some dinner. And then the fussing became sincere and earnest screaming. I fed, changed, and clothed him for bed. And he fell asleep! Waahoo! for 20 minutes.

And then the Wife burst into FLAMES.


The Husband is rocking him in the rocking chair while I vent my spleen to you fine people. I am tired. I am going to wash my face and crawl into bed. And it's 8:35. I live the life of a rock and roll star, y'all.



edited to add: The Boy did not go to sleep until after 11pm. I happily could have fedexed him to Siberia.