Yesterday was rough.
It has been rainy/snowy/wet/dreary here for weeks and weeks. I miss the sun and the warmth. (I'd settle for 50 degrees at this point...)
So the day started off as many Tuesdays and Thursdays do. With my rushing around trying to get out of the house by 8:30-8:40 to get Andrew to preschool.
Andrew didn't want to go to preschool yesterday because on Thursday, he had a big poopy diarrhea explosion in his pants while they were playing in the gym, and he was embarrassed. (Thankfully it was just a fluke and he has not been sick since...) So I had to drop him off when he was all teary-eyed, pleading me to take him with me. Real fun.
I was going to run errands b/c we need groceries, but it was cold and raining. So Benjamin and I came back home.
Where he proceeded to fuss and whine no matter where he was.
So he went down for a rare morning nap at about 10:30, which is when I finally had time to eat breakfast.
We headed back out to get Andrew at about 1:40 to find that Andrew had had a great day at preschool, like I knew he would.
On the way home, Benjamin fell asleep, which is normal and fine. He usually transfers well to his crib for a nice, long nap.
As I was taking Benjamin into the house, all warm and cozy and asleep in my arms, Andrew (who was still strapped into his carseat) started SCREAMING at me because he wanted his Buzz Lightyear toy, and he wanted it NOW.
Benjamin stirred a little, but I thought I was in the clear.
Andrew fell right asleep (a rarity these days) after he got a spanking for repeatedly screaming bloody murder at me when it was totally unnecessary.
But then, about 20 minutes into his crib nap, Benjamin woke up.
And proceeded to play/fuss/whine for the next two hours or so.
I am sure this will change when Thomas arrives and I am even more sleep deprived, but for right now, I have a hard time sleeping or napping when either of my boys is awake, even if they are safely contained in a crib or a bed. I just can't do it. Matthew could saw logs if there were a screaming baby in the same room with him. But I just can't do it if I know they're awake somewhere in the house. My body just won't relax.
And it needed to relax.
See, Matthew, who works for a major health insurance company (in pricing or something that deals a lot with numbers and Microsoft Excel), has just entered his busy time at work. This is his first year in this particular position, and BOY is it busy. Not 100-hour weeks or anything crazy like that, but late nights (sometimes as early as 6:30 or 7:00, sometimes as late as 11 or 12) and one-to-two-day business trips at least once a week starting next week.
He has a lot more meetings scheduled for March, April, and May. (Busy time officially ends in August.) The more meetings he has, the more prep time he needs b/c he is the one preparing for and running the meetings.
What a perfect time to have a baby, right?
So finally both boys were up from their naps. I was trying to fix them something for dinner. Like Tyson honey chicken strips. Healthy enough.
But as I was taking some out of the toaster oven (loooove my toaster oven!) and onto a saucer, I dropped the saucer, and it shattered into a thousand small pieces all over the floor.
I. Lost. It.
I had a tired, pregnancy meltdown.
My poor husband.
I try to be supportive. I do. I know I need to try harder. But it's hard. (wwwwaaaaaaaa) I know he doesn't want to work 14-hour days anymore than I want him to. But nevertheless, sometimes my emotions get the better of me.
So I called him.
While I was sitting on the kitchen floor surrounded by shards of plates and pieces of chicken strips.
In heaping sobs and frustration.
Not exactly sure what I said, but I'm sure it was along the lines of...
"I JUST DROPPED A PLAAAAAATE ON THE FLOOR AND IT BROKE EVERYWHEEERRRRREEE. I'M TRYING TO BE SUPPORTIVE BUT IT'S SO HARRRRRD! I NEEEEEED YOU HERE!!!!"
Yeah. Not one of my finer moments.
That was at about 5:30.
You'd think it couldn't get any worse, but you'd be wrong.
Because both boys refused to eat any of the chicken. (Only one piece fell on the floor.)
So they both had milk for dinner. Benjamin ate yogurt, and Andrew (reluctantly) ate Gogurt. Oh, I take that back. Andrew had about three bites of chicken...which eventually got spit in the trash can because after about 30 minutes, he couldn't/wouldn't swallow them.
Have I mentioned before how much I detest meal times?
Thankfully Matthew got home at about 7:00, so he was able to do the baths and bedtime routines. It is getting increasingly harder to bend over the tub and clean these guys. Especially Benjamin, b/c he needs a lot of assistance cleaning, rinsing, drying, etc.
I would have helped Matthew.
But, alas, I had to go grocery shopping.
Andrew was upset that I was leaving. He spends a lot of time with me, so he's sad when I leave. "But we don't need food! We have lots of food here!" Thankfully, I knew this would happen when I left, so I told him in plenty of time before I actually left. Good thing, too, because it took me at least 10 minutes to talk him down from the ledge. But he was happy with daddy when I left, as long as I promised to go into his room when I got home and give him a "squeeze hug" and a "loudy kiss." Deal.
I got home after 11:00. Because I also had to go to Target and Babies R Us. (Naturally, I left my Target returns at home...)
Thankfully, my wonderful mother accompanied me to Target and BRU, then we used our free Chick-fil-A sandwich coupons for dinner at 9:00.
I dropped her off at home and did a semi-large grocery trip at Super Walmart, where, thankfully, it was not crowded.
Though I could have done without the 30-degree and windy weather as I entered and left the store. Loading my van full of groceries was not fun either.
When I got home, I was glad to hear that both boys had great baths and went to bed easily.
My poor husband had his work laptop out and was surrounded by spreadsheets and other financial paraphernalia that always makes we want to shout out, "e = mc squared!"
He helped me put the groceries away, and we finally got into bed.
The last time I looked at the clock, it said 12:58.
I remember feeling exhausted and feeling sorry for myself, thinking, "12:58? That's only going to be about six hours of sleep!"
Then I realized something...
In about six weeks, I would give anything to get six solid uninterrupted hours of sleep.
I fell right asleep and have had a great day so far today.
It's all about perspective.