And not in the way that Fred Durst meant it, all that he said she said bullsh*t (yup, I went there). But in the way where you think by mid-day THINGSCANNOTPOSSIBLYKEEPGOINGLIKETHIS!
My “day” started out at 1:30 am…. what, your days don’t start at 1:30 am? It was like any other feeding, like clockwork Owen is hungry at 1:30 every night. We rocked and ate 5 ounces, I changed him, then we sat up for our ceremonious burp before I laid him back down to finish the remaining 3 ounces. Only this burp was not a burp. This burp was a coughing fit that then turned into projectile vomiting. Vomiting that went first on my shoulder, then down my shirt (all the way to my bellybutton) on my lap, on my crotch, on the floor, and all over him. EVERYWHERE. Or as I described it to Dave when he ran in after he heard me yelling “Holy crap child!”, a “copious amount of vomit.”
Needless to say there was quite a bit of clean-up required. First I attempted in the dark to find a burp cloth, had no luck and ended up with a clean blanket, which I proceeded to use to clean up my chest, my arm, owen’s face, and the floor. I then moved him to the changing table where I got him naked, while at the same time getting myself naked. There was no way to clean him off unless I was free from my drenched jammy ensemble. Dave came in with wet paper towels with which I scrubbed myself and owen down with (FREEZING wet paper towels, mind you, apparently Dave did not think that warm water would be beneficial to me in the middle of the night). All the while Owen is having a grand time because his favorite time of the day is ANY time he’s naked. So, he’s yelling and chatting it up while I’m stumbling to find new jammies for him, and attempting to put on a random t-shirt that Dave brought in for me. Side note: you know we’re tired and there’s abundant chaos when Dave 1.) does not make a comment about me being totally naked in the nursery and 2.) He brings me a shirt to put on rather than allowing me to remain naked (or he just can’t stand to look at the 20 extra pounds of fat)
After that, the night had been ruined. Normally Owen will fall immediately back to sleep and give us another 4 hours at least of sleep… not tonight. He decided he no longer wanted to eat, but since he was now empty and wide awake, he wouldn’t sleep either. I got back in bed, leaving him to talk to his numerous hilarious friends in his crib in hopes that he’d fall back asleep. No good… I was back to his crib within minutes trying once again to feed him his bottle. There were several more attempts and finally at 3ish? after lots more rocking and shhsh’s he finished the remaining 3 ounces and fell back asleep… Until 4. This is when Dave got up to try to feed him again, and he wanted nothing to do with it. Dave got him back to sleep, and got back in bed and within minutes Owen was screaming, completely beside himself. I once again spent lots of time rocking and force feeding and at 5 had success of him getting back to sleep. I bundled him up real good to keep him toasty warm which seemed to work because when my alarm went off at 5:45 I was pleasantly surprised that he was still sleeping.
When the alarm went off at 5:45… my normal rising time. I looked at the clock, thought “good thing he is still sleeping” shut off the alarm and laid for a minute preparing myself for the tiring day ahead… until I looked up and saw that my “minute” of preparation, was actually an hour of me sleeping. The clock now read 6:50, TEN MINUTES PAST when I am supposed to leave in the morning… So, with an exclamation of “SH*T… F@CK”, I jumped to the closet, pulled out anything in the dark that I thought made an outfit, brushed my teeth, started the car, and got Owen into his car seat and hit the road within 8 minutes. THANK GOODNESS I had showered last night, and thank goodness he had eaten at 5 or he’d have screamed the whole way to my grandmother’s out of starvation and “what the hell did you get me out of bed for?” shock.
I got him dropped of, got to work an hour late (if I leave 10 minutes late, yes, it adds an hour to my commute… damn Massachusetts traffic) and managed to sneak in without anyone noticing. I was pretty productive this morning and decided that instead of being lazy and going to my mother’s for lunch (where I would certainly end up passing out on her couch and missing my 1 pm meeting) I’d go to the grocery store and get my shopping out of the way in order to give me more time tonight to clean up, exercise and go right to bed.
I was like a machine at Stop and Shop. In and out of there in 45 minutes. A world record when I’m there to buy for my entirely EMPTY fridge and cabinets. I got in line to pay and a new “special” bagger walked up to replace the previous bagger, and proceeded to bag every item from my $200 worth of groceries ONE BAG PER ITEM. Literally. And if you aren’t one to do all of your shopping at once when you hit the point of starvation at home, $200 worth of groceries is AN ENTIRE CART. The amount of time it takes to bag each item individually (and then throw them into the cart one at a time) takes longer than actually bagging in a way that makes sense. And thank goodness I didn’t buy eggs, or they’d be oozing from the bag after numerous soup cans and selzer bottles were tossed in without care.
Anyway, nothing a little reorganization once I got to the car couldn’t fix, and I was on my way, with plenty of time to make my meeting. I got back to my desk, opened up my yummy chicken noodle soup that I purchased from the soup station at the store (it wasn’t McDonalds, and don’t think the thought didn’t cross my mind!) and as I started to blow on my first spoonful to cool it to an edible temperature, I blew it ALL OVER my notebooks stationed directly in front of my computer. A delicious brothy smell and stain, permanently there to remind me of my FANTASTIC day.
Oh, did I mention my daycare for tomorrow cancelled? Fab.