Parenting: Day 404 (Or: Why I Am Always A Mess)

SARAH CARTER

12am: I’ve been asleep since 9:45pm! I’m starting the day off with 2 hours and 15 minutes of uninterrupted sleep! Today is gonna be great!

1:01am: Baby wakes up. Demands being nursed back to sleep.

2:48 am: Baby wakes up. For fun, I decide to try not nursing him back to sleep. Baby has a meltdown. I am terrified of being awake for three hours. I nurse him back to sleep.

3:55am: Baby wakes up.

4:58am: Baby wakes up.

5:51am: Baby wakes up FOR THE DAY.

6:43am: Baby poops, which I notice after it escapes his diaper. I put down my coffee (Mug 1) and my husband and I scrub baby poo out of the carpet in three different locations.

7:02am: I clear a path into Baby’s room by putting away all the books, toys, and stuffed animals laying all over the place.

7:03am: Baby pulls every book off his shelves and onto his feet. Baby cries.

7:15am: Baby has breakfast. He gets covered in yogurt. I take advantage of his being locked in his high chair and fold dry laundry after putting a new load into the washing machine.

7:30am: Baby finishes breakfast and is cleaned off with baby wipes. He immediately runs to the French doors to the garden and smears his wet, still-yogurt-y hands all over the glass before turning to his left and rubbing them all over some clean laundry.

7:32am: While washing dishes at the sink, I discover that I smell like the inside of a male wrestler’s gym bag. I begin to strategize a shower.

7:33am: I make black tea while Baby pounds at the French doors.

7:34am: It’s already warm enough outside that I let Baby into the garden wearing just a diaper. I watch him ride his plastic rocking horse over unfortunate bugs and push his Cozy Coupe into flower beds, thinking about how cute he is. Before I can stop him, he uses a measuring cup to drink some old water out of a bucket.

7:49am: Baby bores of dragging an outdoor broom around the garden patio and comes inside with fistfuls of sidewalk chalk, which he gets on the door frames and hardwood floors on the way back into the house.

7:51am: I am tired of running interference as Baby attempts to navigate the big step from inside to outside over and over, so I open the baby gate to the stairs. Baby senses danger and begins crawling upstairs.

7:51am: Excited by making it all the way up, Baby slams his face directly into the open baby gate at the top of the stairs. I abandon my black tea on stairs (Mug 2) and hold him as he screams in my face.

7:51am: I realize I am holding him while sitting on the wet patch where I’d scrubbed poo out of the carpet an hour ago.

7:54am: Baby is now happily rummaging through the diaper bag as I attempt to put away some laundry. I’ve given up on nice things, so I don’t care when my prescription glasses get thrown across the room.

7:55am: Baby is too quiet, which is how I discover that he’s eaten half a tube of Aquaphor Baby moisturizer.

7:55-7:58am: Full blown panic mode. Aquaphor Baby packaging tells me to seek medical help or call Poison Control if the cream is ingested, which is fantastic because that Aquaphor Baby is from the US and I’m in the UK and don’t know what the English equivalent of Poison Control is. I imagine we’ll have to go to the hospital and I wonder how I’m going to explain to my husband that I didn’t notice our son sucking down a bunch of ointment poison. I’ll have to call an ambulance. I am keenly aware that I smell horrible.

7:58am: The internet tells me Aquaphor is just petroleum jelly and lanolin, and at worst, Baby will have diarrhea. This is fine because Poop is one of my skills now.

7:59am: Baby is back to his regularly scheduled programming, methodically taking folded clothing and diapers out of each of his three dresser drawers, cracking the spines on board books by folding them in on themselves, and dropping things behind the radiators.

8:03am: I go into the bathroom to prep for a shower, and Baby beelines for the toilet brush, climbing over a pile of toilet paper rolls and scattering them everywhere.

8:03am: I decide not to shower. I mean, it’s not like we have to go to the hospital.

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Sarah Carter is a PhD student, blogger, wife, expat, and new mom crazy person. She’s currently focused on getting The New Motherhood off the ground (while writing up her first PhD paper and taking care of her baby), but if you’re into snooping and old news, check the archives over at Whiny Baby

 

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