So, yesterday was not one of my best mommy days ever. Nor was it one of Stinkerbelle’s best baby days.
She had been up half the night the night before, and we were both very tired, very crabby, and very unreasonable. It happens. And the best you can do is to just try to remain calm and get through it. But some days, you work each other up and it just makes things that much worse.
Yesterday was one of those days. We spent a good deal of the day annoying each other and yelling at each other and just generally being crabby to each other. But we also had things to get done, and when 1 o’clock approached, I knew it was time to start getting ready to go out and run some errands.
I started getting her dressed and she fought and fussed and generally was a weenie, but she was dressed and ready to go by 1:30. I still had to get myself ready, which annoyed her. But by quarter to 2 we were ready and heading out the door.
We went to the first grocery store, which stocks 2 things we need: distilled water and Butt Paste. As we were walking through the store, a very old man came over, and peeked at Her Babyness. And then, he began speaking to her VERY LOUDLY. (I think he has some hearing issues, myself. DUDE was SHOUTING, man.) Well, this startled the already crabby Stinkerbelle, and she began to cry.
So I excused myself, wheeled her around to calm her down, and headed through the checkout. Where ANOTHER well-meaning old person got in her face and upset her.
I put her in the car with our bags, and off we went to the next store. This is the grocery store she is accustomed to, so she was calmer and more relaxed to be there. As we wheeled around the store, she dozed off. But then, MORE people would get in her face and, while meaning to coo over her and compliment her and such, would only just wake her up again. And wake up none too happy, I might add.
And because of that? LONGEST TRIP TO THE GROCERY STORE IN OUR LIVES, MAN. (I mean seriously. I know she’s beautiful and all, but SERIOUSLY. Do I need to HANG A FRIGGING SIGN?? “Baby Sleeping. Shut the F*** Up.” Sheesh.)
But we got everything we needed, and I got her back in the car. The ride is only 3 minutes from the store to our house, so there was no chance she was going to sleep. I got her and the groceries inside, and I decided I was going to give her a nice big bottle and get her to nap. And she was so tired, she was in agreement.
I settled into the rocking chair and she finished up her bottle and was beginning to doze off, when another old person struck: Opus. Our ancient Bubby came into the room and started shrieking for all she was worth. And in so doing, woke The Girl up again.
I threw something in Opus’s general direction to scare her off, and tried to get Stinkerbelle settled back into a sleep. And once I thought she was asleep, I headed up to her room to put her into her crib.
The moment I tried to lay her down, she started wailing. So I pulled her close and rocked her again. And once she was asleep again, I tried to lay her down. Same result: lots of wailing, not so much sleeping.
At this point, I was hell bent and determined that THIS CHILD WAS GOING TO NAP. So I took her upstairs, and very quietly managed to lie down on the couch with Stinkerbelle asleep on my chest.
And we napped. For something like 45 minutes. 45 WONDERFUL minutes.
And then, the old folks struck again. Opus came up the stairs, looking for us, shouting all the while.
Stinkerbelle awoke with a start. I shushed Bubby, and tried to lull Stinkerbelle back to sleep. But she was startled, and pushed up looking from one side to another. She was awake.
And then, she barfed all over the front of my shirt.
I lay there for a moment, stunned. But then the look on her face — “EWWWW”, combined with a bit of shock, really — made me burst out laughing. I said, “Look, Lady… I am the one who just got barfed on. So if anyone is going to have that look on their face, it’ll be me.”
And then we both started laughing. Big old belly laughs.
We were a little rested, and that made all the difference in our moods.
So we spent the rest of the evening — once I changed out of my barf shirt — goofing around on the couch and watching her favourite video. It was nice.
But when bedtime rolled around, there was no fussing, no messing about. Straight to bed. Both of us were happy to go.