There was a time in my life when I'd get off work, meet up with a friend at the mall, have some dinner, lose myself in some hobbies maybe, and still be able to relax and/or get some housework done at some point. These days? I'm lucky if I get a shower. Of course, some days are worse than others. Like yesterday.
I get home from work around 2:45pm most days. TB leaves and it's just me and the girls until bedtime. Since Pearl still doesn't have any type of pattern to her napping (when and if she chooses to nap), most of the afternoon is spent cleaning bottles, making formula and closely observing her to see if she's getting tired. I usually give up on the nap and try to run around 5pm, but rarely make it to the treadmill until 6:30. If I make it at all. Yesterday I wandered into the bedroom to change into my running clothes and saw our comforter on the floor. In a big pile. Ripped to shreds.
Immediately I glared at Koko, who was sitting at the end of the hallway. As if she could sense my anger, she raised her head to look at me, then lowered her head, ashamed. Since she was diagnosed with Lymes Disease (yeah, just a few days before Pearl was diagnosed with pneumonia after a fever of 104.5 that resulted in a 6-hour emergency room visit) I didn't have the heart to reprimand her. So I just left the comforter there. It's her bed now.
I changed into my running clothes and went to change Pearl's diaper before bringing her downstairs. And of course, she peed on me. And the carpet. And then as soon as I changed her outfit, she spit up all over it. Changed outfit again. Started to make the move down to the treadmill and SB announced she was hungry. Within the past 2 hours the girl had chicken nuggets, a yogurt, some crackers and a handful of candy from Valentine's Day. How could she possibly be hungry already? I made her a waffle with peanut butter so she could eat it downstairs while I ran.
Started to gather up Pearl to head to the treadmill, but by now she was crying her patented hungry cry. Press pause. Insert bottle. Then she fell asleep on me. I didn't dare move her because she needed the nap, and I know my child well enough to know that she would wake up as soon as her head hit the crib. So I sat there like a slave to my 6-month old as she slept on my lap. When she woke up of course, she needed to be changed, then proceeded to puke on herself yet again as I changed her.
By now it was around 6:30. Pearl needs to eat her cereal and solids around 7pm so she can start getting ready for bed immediately after. When she hits her wall at night, all Hell breaks loose as I frantically try to throw her into a sleep sack, fill her humidifier and stick a bottle in her mouth to top off the tank as she screams bloody murder. Not stressful at all. But 6:30 was still early enough that I could get a good 30 minutes in and still stick to her schedule.
But no, SB has to poop. She's four now, and can handle going potty on her own. But she lacks in the butt wiping skills. So I had to stick around and help her. 15 minutes later, she was good to go. (Did I mention she was the slowest pooper ever?) But not enough time for me to run.
So now I feel blah. I woke up early this morning to get a run in before work, but my ADD kicked into overdrive and I did pretty much everything but run. Not counting on getting a run tonight because I have to buy SB new tap shoes then bring her to dance class. Ugh.
