I'm having one of those days. I'm exhausted and fed up and just want to hide in a closet. So please take the following with a grain of salt and understand that thankfully I rarely feel this way. But it is how I feel today.
Right now Bumpus is sitting angelic and cute in his playpen, just all smiles and adorable babbling and grabbing his toes. Where was this baby at seven this morning? Nowhere to be found. Instead I woke up with Devil Baby Monster.
Had pretty much the Worst.Morning.Ever. Since I didn't get enough sleep last night, when B woke up I did what I have sometimes done with mixed results - put him in his playpen so I can at least lie quietly for a few minutes. Well, today it didn't work out so hot. He got completely worked up into a frenzy so that when I finally broke down and picked him up there was no going back. He just smashed the back of his hard skull into my clavicle over and over, screamed until my ears rang, and would not be comforted no matter what I did. At one point I thought there must genuinely be something wrong with him - I gave him some teething tablets; nothing. Finally dosed him with Tylenol; still nothing. I had that awful moment every parent has when you cannot figure out what's bothering your kid and you feel like an incompetent idiot. And you're utterly exhausted and fed up and - dare I say it - angry. Because there's just nothing lovable about a screaming, kicking, squirming toddler. Especially not when they've been at it for over an hour and don't want to be held or comforted in any way. I guess now is the time for his being mad just for the sake of being mad. I haven't figured out how to handle this yet, since 90% of the time he settles down very easily.
What did it finally? Taking him upstairs to the playroom. I think it distracted him enough that he got over whatever mood he was in. So, lesson learned here: a), accept the fact that you're not going to get more sleep and don't think he'll play nicely in the playpen first thing in the morning, and b) definitely move him around the house for distraction purposes. It will probably help settle him down.
I have to say the idea that I will never, ever again get to sleep in later than 7 AM, no matter how tired I am, no matter how sick I am, no matter how late my gig the night before got me home, makes me literally want to cry my eyes out. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "fuck you, I get up at six every day. Bite me." Yes, I understand this sentiment. But what if someone told you you had to get up at 2 AM from now on every day of your life, while going to bed at the same time? That's a bit how I feel right now. I have THREE long distance gigs three weekends in May which involve driving home from San Diego or Santa Barbara and probably not getting home until about 3 AM. Only to be woken up in four hours. Oh, and every penny I make will go to pay the babysitter for the eight hours I have to leave him each time. I'm in hell.
I would also like to take a moment to bitch about the food thing. I am making a real effort to feed B real food three times a day. And apart from the fun of seeing him try new foods, so far it kind of blows. It takes FOREVER. Sometimes I try to feed myself at the same time, but sometimes it's too complicated. So there's frantically trying to get some non-messy food into his hands once he gets into the high chair so he doesn't get impatient and start screaming (always poufs or a cracker). Then I have to prevent him from taking his sleeve and sweeping all the food on to the floor, or sticking his elbows into something messy, or taking the food piece by piece and dropping it over the side. Then there's trying to figure out if he's thirsty or done; sometimes having to wrench his mouth open and pull the food out since he shoved too much of it in there and doesn't know how to swallow it (for this reason he won't be having apple again for a while). Eventually I always get fed up with waiting for him to feed himself and just start shoveling food in with a spoon (if I didn't do this we'd literally sit there all day). Then I have to endure ear piercing screams as I try to clean his face and hands. Then I have to clean the high chair, floor, myself, and dishes. And this is three times a day, every day. I kind of hate it. Weaning isn't looking too great right now, I'll be honest.
So after our craptastic morning I had a bunch of errands to run, in and out of the car over and over, and...he was just fine. And he's fine now. So, what was this morning about? Probably mad at me for leaving him in the playpen that long...which was never a problem before...but is obviously now a problem. Ok. Well, I won't be doing that again I guess!
Days like these definitely make me think I absolutely cannot handle two children. I don't have it in me, I don't know what I'm doing, I'm too selfish, I'm not mumsy and loving enough. I want sleep. I want to enjoy a meal. I want to go out and not have to race home and relieve a sitter. I want a BREAK.
I may look into that part time nursery school after all. I can't afford it, but as my event gets nearer it may be necessary so I can focus on work and those long term intense projects that start popping up. Or just for my own sanity, at this point.
Here is a more light hearted look at what I'm going through today. I have to admit I laughed and it made me feel better: