If you follow me on Twitter, you know my afternoon? Kind of blew. To say the least.
Joshua and I got up and showered and dressed this morning and decided to go out. Somewhere. And I ended up at Moe’s. So we ate and had a great time and then it was time to go home for a nap.
A nap that never happened.
You see, dear friends, Joshua nodded off in the car. And when I took him inside? I made the RIDICULOUSLY FACKING AWFUL decision to change his diaper before putting him in the crib. So he got all whiny on me. I snuggled him, sang a song, put him in the crib, and then left the room. Where he promptly DID NOT fall asleep.
I listened and waited and listened and then went in to snuggle him some more. And he’d pooped.
I wouldn’t want to sleep with a load like that in my pants, either, so I can’t fault him for not sleeping the first time.
The second time? KID SHOULD’VE JUST TAKEN A NAP. And he didn’t. He jumped up and down in his crib. He counted to 10 (skipping numbers 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9, I might add). He ripped the teething bumper off the rail. He threw the monkey onto the ground.
And I? Decided the nap was a wash since it was already 2:30 and it was obvious he was not going to sleep.
So we went to JoAnn to see about some fabric (which I did not find) for a project I’m brewing up in my head.
While we were there, I think it was everyone in the store’s job to GET IN MY WAY AND STAY THERE.
Joshua’s screaming to be held and I’m alternating between carrying a 35 lb toddler and forcing him to sit in the buggy. Grandma on the button aisle just stands there in the middle of the place like she owns it. Other Grandma parks herself in front of the needles. Another Grandma keeps moseying up and down the same fabric aisle as me, completely blocking my path. Joshua keeps screaming and whining and crying and people are looking and I am breaking out into a sweat.
And my thighs are chaffing because THEY ARE FAT and they rub together and I decided today was a great day for a skirt. Like a facking moron.
So what do I do?
I take the few items I’ve managed to get into my cart, throw them into an aisle, and speed out of there like I’m in the Monaco Grand Prix. Oh yes. Yes, I did that. And the cart might’ve even been on two wheels a couple of times. And I might’ve shaken the cart and snapped “STOPWHININGJOSHUASTOPSTOPSTOP!” a few times on my way out of the store.
What happened when we got to the car, you ask?
Oh yes. That’s my child. Sleeping. At 4:30 in the afternoon. But, as my friend Jennifer pointed out, at least my hair looks nice, right? o_o
By the time I got to the car, after dropping my keys, nearly dropping my bag, and screaming one of those primal screams that starts low and gets higher and more animalistic as it progresses, I was in such a frenzy that I really just needed to cool off and calm down.
(And yes. I totally screamed in the parking lot. Pretty sure people thought I was a nut case.)
I knew that if I threw him into the car seat in an attempt to speed home he would scream the whole way, I would probably have a panic attack, and I would likely get a ticket.
So? Front seat for a chill out it was.
At first I was just trying to get him (and myself) to calm down, but every time he tried to move to touch something or look at something in the front seat I was annoyed and I snapped at him.
“No touching. Head down. No. No. No.”
And he whined and laid his head down. Every time. Like some kind of defeated little puppy.
Eventually his breathing regulated and his eyelids were fluttering and I knew he was going to need to sleep. So I let him sleep.
I just sat there, air conditioner blowing, timing my breathing with his, feeling his little toddler heartbeat against my chest, and praying that I’ll be a calmer, cooler, more collected Mama tomorrow than I was today.