Episode 19: Today is not my day

Thursdays are beginning to be tough days for me, as I have been closing the bar on Wednesday nights, making for some early morning bed times, followed by early morning wake-ups.

Last night wasn't too bad, I was home by 1:15, but unfortunately, the sandwich I had before bed did not settle well, and I ended up waking up around 2:30 to, um, get rid of it. (Side note: For years I have been hearing the tired old argument for shopping at Market Basket. People say it is cheaper, it is the same as Stop and Shop, etc... but I have always avoided it because I think the store is disgusting and it makes me feel uncomfortable. Unfortunately, Mommy was convinced by some well-meaning co-workers to go there this week and she tried it out. The quality of food from Market Basket is deplorable. The deli-sliced cheese tasted like a generic brand of Kraft singles and the turkey tasted processed and old.)

In any event, my 6:30 a.m. wake up call was a bit harsh this morning. It is amazing how a late night at work and a bad sandwich can create the same effects as a hangover when you wake up before the sun.

Av is pretty easy when she first gets up. Change her, give her breakfast and toss on a video. This is usually the time when I do my chores. The unfortunate events began around 7:00 when one of our cats, Little Cat, (who's real name is Rocky, but will be referred to as LC from here on out- more on the cats coming in a future post) decided that she was going to jump on to the drain board filled with clean dishes, knocking a rather sizable pan in to the sink filled with water.

The pan splashed in to the sink, shooting dirty water all over my shirt and shorts, forcing me to change my clothes for the first time 10 minutes after I woke up.

After that fiasco I was attempting to re-fill the cat food container when LC decided she was going to come sniff around again. You know, because the food in her bowl is not as good as the food I am putting in the container. She jumps on the counter, which is wet because of her last trick, gets startled because of it, freaks out and knocks her food all over the wet counter and on to the floor.

Often times, the baby will wake up much earlier than we actually think that she does. She spends a lot of time in her crib playing quietly, and usually melts down when she gets hungry and demands that I come get her. This means that, although I am in there around 6:30-7, she really has been up since around 5:30. Because of this, today she threw the "I'm tired" fit around 7:45, even though she just got out of bed. In an attempt to calm her down I made her a warm bottle, wrapped her in a blanket and sat on the couch. She had just started to chill out and fall asleep when unfortunate event number three took place.

For some reason that I will never understand, she began to crazily flail her arms, causing the bottle nipple to slip out of her mouth and in to the path of her hand, which deflected the nipple directly in to her open eye. So much for that calming bottle. She, of course, started screaming, probably half out of pain and half out of panic, getting so worked up that she threw up all over my neck and chest. Change of clothes number two.

Usually when she cries I can distract her by singing loudly. It makes her feel better and it makes her  laugh. I don't sing 'Old McDonald' or any other baby songs. I usually just sing the first song that comes to mind. Sometimes it is someone like Seal, other times it is Van Halen. Doesn't matter, as long as it is singing. Today the first song that came to mind was 'East Bound and Down,' the theme to Smokey and the Bandit.

I'm not sure how this song popped in to my head, as I have not heard it in a long time, but I could only remember the first two lines:  'East bound and down, loaded up and truckin' We're gonna do what they say can't be done.'

The rest is just a blur of twang, Burt Reynolds and a Pontiac Firebird.  I'm not sure if it was because I didn't know the rest of the song, or if she was really just pissed, but it didn't work and she kept screaming.
 
It became apparent that we needed to take a drive so she would nap and that went well for a short period of time, until I decided that it would be a good time to run errands. She woke up from the nap a little happier, and also a little more constipated. Maybe she was sneaking some of the Market Basket turkey, I am not sure, but her second dump of the day was a doozie, and as a bonus, happened to take place inside Eastern Bank where I was waiting in line to deposit a rent check in my California slumlord's bank account.
The smell was ok, but it had to have been uncomfortable because she started to fuss. I didn't care, as a longstanding hatred I have for Eastern Bank gave me enough confidence to stand in line with my smelly, crying baby to pay my rent, rather than come back later.

We rushed home and by the time we had returned, Av had fallen asleep again, meaning I had the unpleasant task of waking her up to change her diaper. Needless to say, she was unhappy and began to kick and flail her legs. The subsequent fit resulted in poop being spread from the ass/ thigh area all the way down her legs, on her arms, on my arms, on her socks and on my shirt. This would be change of clothes number three today.

The Poopstock '09 riot resulted in a bath for the baby and later a shower for Daddy that was interrupted with blood-curdling screams because I left the room. (She was supposed to be distracted by her video.) Av usually loves the bath tub, but the trauma of the waking up to a poop diaper change had her a bit riled up, so as soon as I put her in the tub (contained in the kitchen sink) she started kicking and flailing again, splashing the majority of the water in the tub on the counter, floor and my fourth shirt of the day. That is my fourth shirt before noon.

Frustrated, but still somehow hanging on to my patience with the thinnest of threads, I handed her the rubber octopus bath toy and started whistling (another crowd-pleaser), and she finally calmed down and started having some fun.

I managed to get her in and out with little incident, but getting her clothes on was another story. She started flailing and yelling again, so much so that she hit her head on the side of the changing table. More screaming.

Things finally settled down around noon, when a late-morning snack and a trip around the kitchen in her car walker seemed to brighten her up. As for me, I am on my fifth shirt, I am showered and I am playing the odds that things can only look up from here.