My day

The baby wakes up at 6:30.  Happy and cute baby, yes, but way too early.

I try to nurse him back to sleep for a while to no avail.  I lay in bed with my eyes closed.  I am already exhausted and haven't even gotten up yet.

It is day two of Kevin's three days of being out of town.  The first day there is a little bit of fun being alone.  Watching what I want, stretching out in bed.  But by day two I am tired and know that there are still two full days with just me and the baby.

I get up and the baby is off and fussing.  He cries on and off for seemingly no reason and I can feel myself get annoyed, but carry him around and try to make him happy.  We eventually go to a story time which he enjoys even though another little boy keeps taking all the toys Finn is playing with and then throwing them at him.  The boys mother does nothing, I glare at him ineffectually.

We go home.  It is the day my house gets cleaned which is my very favorite day of every two weeks.  But today when she leaves the house...just isn't clean.  She's been coming later and leaving earlier and doing a worse and worse job.  Every time she leaves I think I should a) talk to her and explain my upset/concerns or b) fire her and find someone new.  But I do neither of these things because I am a) horrible at confrontation and b) the thought of trying to find someone knew fills me with exhaustion.

I get the baby down for his nap.  I know that later in the day I have to coordinate a pick up from our house of one of Kevin's work instruments.  He was very careful to tell the people not to come before 2:00, after naptime is over.  They come at 1:06.  The baby wakes up.  The baby cries.  I help them find the intrument while thinking that I hate them.

The baby continues to cry.  I manage to get him back to sleep for a while but he wakes up fussy.

My mom is supposed to come over and help me tonight.  Bring dinner, watch the baby while I shower, spend the night.  She calls to tell me she can't come because she has the stomach flu.  I am especially glad to hear that since she was over the day before yesterday playing with me and Finn.

I am also not feeling well.  I want to lay motionless on the couch under a blanket.  Instead I chase a fussy baby.

It is late and the day is almost over.  One of the dogs gets out of the yard.  I put Finn in the car and we drive around in the freezing cold night looking for her.  I have mixed feeling about wanting to find her, but we eventually do.

I try to shower.  Finn wants to get in the shower but then screams until I pick him up (at this point it is well past his bed time).  I wash one handed while holding a slippery baby.

We get out and I go to put on my pajamas.  Finn is mercifully quiet for a minute and I relax, forgetting the cardinal mom rule that quiet is almost always a bad thing.  I go back into the bath room and Finn smiles at me.  At his feet are two golfball sized pieces of poo.

We are finally ready for bed.  Hopefully Finn will sleep.  I will most likely lay next to him in the dark and eat cupcakes.  And then tomorrow I will do it all again.