I don't even know what to call this one

What a morning! I feel like I've been sprinting all morning long and have just plopped down on my ass at the finish line, completely wiped out. It started out nice enough. Despite yet another cold, Jonah slept until 6:37 a.m., relatively late for him. However, he was up 3-4 times last night, most likely due to congestion and also, I suspect, teething, and Matthew tended to him each time he woke. The last time he woke up was around 4 a.m. When I got Jonah up out of his crib and brought him to our bed for his morning nursing, Matthew told me that he had a lot of trouble falling back to sleep after getting Jonah back to sleep. So, when Jonah was finished nursing, rather than letting Jonah play with us in bed for a while like we do most mornings, I brought him into the living room so that Matthew could catch a little extra sleep. Before I left the bedroom, I told Matthew that I did need to take a shower and get myself ready before he left for work. Then, I spent the next two hours dealing with a very cranky baby. It was understandable that he was cranky and out of sorts. But, anyone who has dealt with this mood in a baby knows how hard it is to do much beyond hold them. But, there are still things that need to get done, like preparing and eating your breakfast, and preparing and cleaning up after the baby's breakfast to name just a few. The only solution was to alternate some close cuddling or reading books to Jonah with quickly going about my morning chores while Jonah clung to my legs all red-faced, snotty and crying. On top of everything else, Jonah pooped three times between waking up and 9 a.m.! And, diaper changes were clearly not on the top of Jonah's list of favorite activities this morning. When I needed to, I simply had to plow through, move forward, change the diapers, wipe up snot, read 10 books, including several over and over and over, make the oatmeal, clean up the oatmeal and so on, with a pretty cranky little boy in tow. I felt terrible when I had to focus on a task while Jonah cried, but it was my only choice if I wanted to allow Matthew to sleep. And, I did want him to sleep. He took care of Jonah all night while also fighting a bit of a cold himself. However, that didn't stop me from checking the clock every now and then, especially once 8 o'clock hit. I kept thinking, "Oh, I bet Matthew will be getting up now." And, then another 15 minutes would pass. Luckily our 9 a.m. play date canceled because she didn't want to risk her twin boys getting Jonah's cold, and I sure don't blame her. But, as 9 a.m. approached I realized I needed to get Jonah out of the house somehow, even for just a short stroller walk. We both needed a change of scenery. I considered a 10 a.m. story hour at the library for babies Jonah's age, but before I knew it it was almost 9 and I still needed to take a shower, get dressed, brush my teeth, prepare snacks for my ever-ravenous little boy (even with a cold) and pack the diaper bag. Finally, Matthew emerged from the bedroom. I tried really, really hard not to unleash because I really wasn't mad at Matthew. I could have woken him at any time. (Hmmm. Lesson learned, perhaps?) But, I really wanted him to get as much sleep as possible in case tonight is difficult, too. I did say something like, "Hi. Jonah is having a rough morning. He needs a new diaper. Can you change him? And, I need a break. I need a shower." Then, I handed off the baby and retreated to my lovely, hot shower. I thought everything would seem better after a shower. After I was dressed, but before I had dried my hair, I peaked out into the living room, partly as a way to let Matthew know I was almost ready and we could switch roles, but also to see if Matthew had had any better luck cheering Jonah up. When Matthew saw me, he said, "OK, Bud. Daddy needs to take a shower." (I'm sensing another "lesson learned" here.) I took that to mean that Matthew probably had to get a move on to get to work on time. So, I decided to see if Jonah wanted to "help Mama blow dry her hair." This didn't work out so well. It ended up that all three of us were all in our tiny bathroom together, me blow drying my hair while also trying to keep Jonah happy by giving him my hairbrush or pretending to blow dry his hair (everything takes three times longer when you involve a little toddler but it's usually worth the extra time and effort), and Matthew just kind of standing there in his underwear waiting for me to finish at the sink so he could put his contacts in before showering. Finally, I said, "I'll finish my hair in the bedroom." Then, I was off to the races again and the calm of my shower was quickly dissolving. Jonah was still in a bad mood, so I just tried to finish getting us ready to get out the door as quickly as possible. He was interested at first in putting on his shoes, but didn't want to sit still anymore when I had to finish tying the second one. He flailed and cried and protested. Then, he didn't mind having his sweater put on but he fought letting me button it. He flailed around as I tried to get his coat on, but then stopped to let me zip it up, and finally we were out the door, with Matthew seeing us off in his underwear. We walked and the chilly breeze felt good to me. I put Jonah's hat on his head and he pulled it off. I put his hat on again and gave him his sippy cup and he tossed it on the ground. I gave him a toy and he was happy. It was cold so I decided not to go very far. We stopped at a coffee shop for snacks. Jonah was mostly happy in this new environment, swaying his head to the music and waving to people, happily eating his slices of apples and small bites of my croissant. We stopped at the dog park on the way home. It was still early so I decided to make a quick stop at the playground so Jonah could burn off some energy by walking around in the hope that he would take a nice, long nap. He had a lot of fun, but was very upset about having to leave. Then, he cheered up when he saw some construction equipment. He loves diggers. But, he cried when we had to say good-bye to the digger. He cried as I brought him up the stairs and into the house. I wondered if I could get a quick lunch into him but he cried at the mere suggestion of applesauce. He cried when I took off his coat and his sweater and his shoes. He cried as I used the bathroom and washed my hands. He cried and clung to me as I cleaned and refilled the humidifier in his room. He cried and squirmed as I changed poopy diaper number 4, flipping himself all around on the changing table. I decided to put him down for a minute to see if he would calm down before putting on the new diaper. Bad idea! He peed on the carpet, while also crying, and also peed on his shirt and socks. Then, he bumped his head on the door casing while trying to maneuver into his room. Screams! Sobs! Meanwhile, I had to get a clean diaper on him and completely change his outfit. Not fun for this little guy or this mama. Finally, I told him it was time to say good night. To the door. To the window. To the shade and curtains. "Good night, good night, good night," I said. Finally, he cheered up and even seemed to get excited. It was finally time to nurse and lay in my lap and rest and relax and listen to me sing to him. It took a little longer than usual, understandably, but he finally, finally drifted off to sleep. I lay him down in his crib, covered him with soft blankets and closed the door. Then, I took a deep breath and made some tea. Phew. Please, nap gods, please, oh please, let him sleep a long, long time. Mama needs a break. ~ Nicole