Days Like This

Today was the day that was.

Alex woke up cranky that it was only Monday and that his grandparents won't be back until Thursday, and beSIDE himself that I forced him to wear long pants because of the sudden change in morning weather. (Of course, this being Alabama, by noon it's virtually sweltering, so tomorrow we're going with shorts and a jacket and his little legs can just freeze if he wants them to.)

I was very proud of the haul of new fall clothes I bought for him today, until he tried them on after dinner and we discovered that I am abysmal at size guestimations and maybe don't really have a clear grasp of what my kid looks like. I'm pretty sure the excess length on all the pants could've been made into similar pants for at least one additional kindergartner. So tomorrow I'll drag the girlchild back to Old Navy to swap out sizes in every single item of clothing I bought today. I love doing the same job twice. It's like I never left publishing.

I will also, as it's late and this horrendous day is over and I'm dreaming big, get something done work-wise. Today that was almost literally impossible, as someone swapped Katherine out with an identical-looking but temperamentally opposite baby in the night. Nothing appeased her, nothing distracted her unless it was something that had the effect of ramping up her displeasure a few notches. She seemed to hold me personally responsible for everything that was bothering her, which seemed to be everything she was feeling, seeing, thinking, touching, and otherwise experiencing.

Everything I did today, every breath I took, every key I typed, was set to the background of "ehhhh. ehhhhhh. ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

If that won't make a person crazy, what will, I ask you?

I had to take an important work-related phone call in my bedroom while she screamed bloody murder from her crib and I tried to pretend I couldn't hear her (and hoped that the person I was interviewing actually couldn't).

I ran back to her as soon as humanly possible and scooped her up, but she was too upset to let me comfort her right away, so there was back arching and the screaming turned to heartbreaking wails and her (still) blue marble eyes silently accused me of bad! bad! things! Like leaving her alone for five minutes when I should have been holding her, all the better to hear her ceaseless vocalizations of all-encompassing protest.

When Steven came home at lunch she managed a few smiles for him and when he made his standard joke about taking her back to work with him I agreed, but unfortunately he thought I was kidding.

There were some good things. Alex got possession of Bobby Bear for the night (though we butted heads over his "homework," which was to have an adventure with Bobby and write or draw a picture about it; Alex wanted to write a book, and aside from the fact that he's only allotted one page, I couldn't be of much help to him with his sister "ehhhhhh"ing in my ear. Right the heck in there; she does it on purpose.)

"Mommy, how do you spell 'Bobby Bear and I had a lot of fun today playing games like football and my DS and jumping on my trampoline'?" How do you SPELL that? You spell that "Ask your dad when he gets home."

Mother of the Year, right here.

I managed to make dinner but not to do the dishes. I managed to change my spit-up-soaked clothes four times and Katherine's three but not to throw them in the laundry. I managed to finish my article that's due tomorrow but not the ones I need to have written before I leave on Friday for a God-blessed girls' trip to the beach with some of my favorite people.

And that's what I'll focus on now, as I try to find the restful room in the tower of sleep. Lately I've been sleeping in the room that lets you think and think and think yourself into a nervous mess who shouldn't even BE in bed and ends up nursing fears and worries, two steps away from rocking in a corner somewhere.

Tonight I took an Ambien, so maybe the restful room will be easier to find this time.

If not, I'll just hope that Pod Katherine sleeps it off, whatever "it" is, and will be my happy angel baby again by morning.