I just…I mean…my feet still hurt.

I wore flats today.  My feet are still sore. :/

I gave some great lectures with my Am. Lit classes (if I do say so myself…)  But now my throat is sore.

BAH.  You win some, you lose some, right?

So I’m sipping on some tea and I’m about to go rub some lotion into my sore feet and call it a night. 

But first, we’ve got to discuss the evil that is eye teeth and diaper rash.

Joshua woke up at 5:30 this morning. (How did this kid not get the memo that sleeping until 7:00 is PERFECTLY ACCEPTABLE?!?!?)

Anyway, about 45 minutes later, he was standing in the bathroom and he stopped moving.  That meant poop. 

(Unlike some babies who get the grunt face and turn all reddish-purple when they poop, my son simply stops in his tracks, stands perfectly still, does his business, and then takes off running again.  Just so you know.)

So I changed his diaper and it was…well…I won’t describe it.  But it was not good.

I was all “What in the….what did he EAT???” (The short answer: Almost nothing.) 

When I picked him up from daycare, he did the “I’m gonna eat yer face!” thing when I asked for kisses. And I noticed an eye tooth (bottom left) getting ready to bust through the skin.  Then the diaper from the morning made sense.  Then it also made sense when his afternoon teacher said “His behind is looking a little red…”

The teething has given him horrible poop AND a diaper rash.  (I am telling myself this diaper rash is related to teething.  If I allow myself to think anything otherwise, the Mama Guilt comes flooding in telling me he wouldn’t have this rash if he were home with me.  And I don’t know if I can handle more Mama Guilt right now.)

Anyway. Diaper rashes? NOT AWESOME.

So what did I do when I put him in the tub tonight?

I forgot about the diaper rash.  And scrubbed his little hineybutt with his washcloth and baby soap.

Uh, HELLO MAMA FAIL POLICE.  I’D LIKE TO REPORT A CRIME AGAINST BABY BUTTS. 

His poor little bootycakes are all red and angry and I probably set him on fire.

🙁

I spent the next ten minutes trying to console him by playing with the water, climbing in the shower and turning it on so he could play in the spray, making silly noises and games, making up ridiculous songs.  You name it? I tried it.

It didn’t work. 

See, I had to stall because we were out of milk.  And when did we realize this??? 

When he was in the bathtub and halfway finished. 

Dan drove up to the store to get some milk.  And it felt like it was taking an eternity for him to get back because the booty washing incident happened as soon as he pulled out of the driveway (or so it seemed).

And Joshua kept alternating between screaming, whimpering, laughing, and screaming. And then he took all the lotion bottles out of the tote and then put them back in. And then he did it all over again. 

It was kind of AHHHHHHH in my house this evening.

(Let’s not even mention the fact that I couldn’t put him down from the time we walked in the door until the time he went to bed. Which meant I took the dog out to pee, made a phone call, and cooked spaghetti with one free hand and a toddler on the other hip.) 

What’s the point of all of this?  Aside from the fact that you should never scrub an angry diaper rash?

The point is that we’re trying to figure out this new schedule we’re on.  And so far, I wouldn’t even say we’re hitting the mark 50% of the time.  It feels like we’re 75% out of whack and flying by the seat of our pants the other 25% of the time. 

I’m ready for this to all settle down and feel normal.