It is 9 p.m. I sit here, with baby vomit in my hair, lamenting the fact that I’ve stayed up so late. With that in mind, I’d like to take a moment to bemoan the day I’ve had in the spirit of Alexander – he of the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
As you know, the muppets got their four-month shots on Friday. This has left them cranky and wide awake. I, in turn, am also wide awake. The middle of the night has become social time, when all I want to do is sleep – the floor upon which I’m currently standing looks perfectly comfy.
I think I’ll move to Maui.
This morning was a circus. I had to get the boys ready and help try to get Gramma J out the door to the airport so she could go back home. I wish my mom could stay longer. She just barely made her flight and then had to sit on the tarmac for an hour while a mechanic “looked at the plane.” That sounds safe. I think I’m moving to Maui.
Today was the first day the muppets spent with the nanny instead of with Mom or Dad. We’ve got a great nanny (peace of mind is vastly underrated), but I missed my boys. It was hard to leave. I think I should go to Maui.
I was running late for work so I had to participate in my 9 a.m. meeting via Bluetooth headset in my car. We’re in the middle of the technology capital of the world, but my phone can’t seem to hold a call. Instead, the plant I was bringing to liven up my cube fell over in the back seat. Now there’s dirt in my nice new car. I want to go to Maui.
When I finally got to my desk, I discovered the hard drive on my computer was dead. The IT guy told me it’d be a while since he had to see if there was anything he could do about it. I went to get coffee while I pondered how to make myself useful without my laptop. The barista called me Patty. I HATE being called Patty. I’m moving to Maui.
I ran to my next meeting, hot coffee sloshing about and over my old-fashioned pen and paper note-taking technique. No one was in the conference room when I got there. The meeting was canceled, but nobody bothered to share that with me. I think I’ll move to Maui.
When I finally got my computer back, all my permissions had vanished. The technician told me “it should work,” but that didn’t magically make his statement true. I’d really like to move to Maui.
Logan had terrible gas pains and was screaming when I got home. Nothing I did seemed to make him feel any better. Caden was crying because he just wanted to be held. I felt like a terrible mother. I should go to Maui.
After a week, Logan finally pooped. He had a major blowout that leaked through his diaper onto the changing pad. Somehow I got poo on the curtains while I was changing him. As I reached for a new wipe, a fountain of pee drenched me, the kid and the changing table. I think I’ll move to Maui.
As soon as I picked him up, all freshly changed and clean, he vomited all over me. Again. There’s vomit in my hair. And it’s chunky. Now it’s 9 p.m., and I’m still awake. I think I’ll go to Maui.
But, just as Alexander’s mom told him that sometimes people (big or small) have terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days – even in Australia – I know people have crazy, hectic, stressful exhausting days – even in Maui.
Although, in Maui, at least I’d be in paradise with the world’s cutest muppets…