I get off work and head to the grocery store to pick up a few things and fill a prescription, no big deal. Ready to get home, that's for sure. Get home to find out my blonde self left my prescription in the cart - in the store. So I waddle my pregnant butt back to the store and find it, feeling all the while like an incompetent idiot who has no right to be bringing children into the world when I can't keep track of my own stuff.
I get home and my daughter had thrown the fit from hell when I left again, so my husband laid her down. She wasn't sleeping, just finding her reset button (which consists of resting and a baba). I lay down and just start crying. My husband isn't ready for work and has to leave in the next 1/2 hour. Another day we don't get to see each other, and I get even more emotional because I wish he'd be ready when I get home so we'd get to spend that 1/2 hour together instead of a hug and kiss as he walks out the door. Again, stupid minor little things.
I start to get over it all with the help of a Big Boy ice cream sandwich. Leave it to ice cream and chocolate to cure a preggo's tears. Delyah starts to get a bit fussy in her room so I brace myself to wrestle a 2 year old for the evening alone. I open her bedroom door and whew buddy! That kid can't say her poop don't stink!
I grab a diaper, some wipes, chase her into a corner so I can catch her to change her diaper. I unbutton a row of buttons to find her diaper wasn't securely fastened and there is literally poo all up and down her legs and her cloths.
Ew
I put it all back together, and head strait to the bathroom and start the bathtub. After getting her mostly cleaned up and in the bath playing happily I turn to clean up the cloths and start the washer - only to find out the majority of the poo fell out of the diaper when I was whisking it off her little butt and out of her reach and had since been crushed into the bathroom rug by me while getting Delyah into the bathtub.
That's just what I needed. On top of all the other stuff from today!!!
So I get EVERYTHING all cleaned up. My cloths, her cloths, the bathroom rug, get them all in the washer. I get her clean cloths and a diaper and a couple towels to lay her on when I pull her out of the bathtub - and she's throwing her bath toys out of the tub, full of water and all. That's when mommy decides bath time is most defiantly over.
You would have thought I fought World War 3 with that kid! Water everywhere, she screamed bloody murder and flailed herself all over the floor before getting this vacant look in her eyes and starts close fist punching herself in the face. I know I don't have it as bad as some moms whose kids bang their heads into walls and such, but maybe, just maybe that paint she's eating off the wall in her room is getting to her. (that's a story for another time)
So by this time hell has strait up frozen over, so mommy decides it's bedtime. Less than 2 minutes of crying and that little girl is out cold. All this within a 2 hour time span!
Whew - what a day! And to do it all alone, 8 months pregnant!
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