Wednesday, February 10, 2016

The Final Countdown

 Just when I think I've got this parenting thing DOWN, my daughter, without fail, springs something on me that makes me question my entire mommy-hood. Today happened to be one of those days. If you've been following me for any decent amount of time, you know by now that I am very schedule and routine oriented.V E R Y. I don't like being thrown off of the usual routine because I'm a control freak. There, now it's out in the open for the forty-thousandth time.

Usually, it starts with a crappy nap or a very early waking, and then will spiral downhill from there. Today started out as any normal day. Trey woke up early for work {inevitably waking me as well} and I got up shortly after he left {about 7}, and managed to squint my way through my bright IG feed a time or two, you know in case I missed anything that was potentially life or death. I barely made it out of bed when I heard a faint "maaaaaaaaaa" followed by "up, up, up, up, BUB-EE" {baby}. So I won't lie, I still went into the kitchen and made a cup of coffee, just in super speed. You see I don't rush into get Emerson first thing in the morning. Her time to get up is 7:30am, per my rule. As long as she's not screaming like a banshee, she stays in her crib until I go in to get her. HELP ME JESUS when she learns to crawl out of her crib. Anyway, what I was able to accomplish this morning, well that's usually just the first little portion of MY morning routine. Normally {you see where this is going}, I wake up, scroll Instagram, pee, make coffee, and make a short list of goals for the day. Today, I skipped the "pee" and went straight to coffee because time was of the essence. I drank about 4 good sips before Emerson started yelling at me. No, literally, she yells from her crib. Not cries, 
y e l l s. She's no dummy. It's really freaking adorable most mornings.

Not this morning. 

This morning I was really exhausted from staying up too late watching Making a Murderer {GAH! dying over here} with Trey. I didn't get to finish my coffee while it was hot, which is incredibly frustrating to me and makes me feel underprepared for the day. The microwave and I are besties on mornings like today. Much to my surprise, Emerson was in a fantastic mood all morning. I even got in a quick gym session and she *WILLINGLY* went into the Kid's Club to play. Like, did not even look back to say 'bye' to me. This is a whole other story for another time. 

Fast forward >>

Nap time is usually between 12:30-1pm and naps have been averaging 2.5-3 hours here lately. I was not so fortunate today because you know I didn't have a lot I wanted to accomplish during that time or anything. She woke up about 1.5 hrs into her nap screaming. Like she went from conked to scream-central in 2 seconds flat. I could not comfort her. Like for the entire rest of the day. She was cranky, whiny, snotty, and apparently very hungry because she ate almost an entire sleeve of graham crackers by herself in one sitting. #Momoftheyear

Needless to say, by approximately 5pm, I was spent. She was showing no signs of relenting to her utter exhaustion and I, in turn, was becoming more and more exhausted. I don't know if I'm alone in this or not, but I would much rather have a day of complete chaos from running a trillion errands with a content child, than a day of complete chaos from doing next to nothing and having a discontent child. It is SO draining mentally, physically, and emotionally. I'm not going to lie to you, I loaded her in the car, turned on her favorite little "tw-ain" cartoon on the iPad and we drove the back country roads for ONE HOUR. I listened to jazz music the entire time. I'm turning into my parents.

After an hour of driving around, I was famished. Driving is exhausting {tack that on to that a pounding headache + an already exhausting afternoon}. I hit up Panera on the way home for a *salad*, thank you. Once home, Emmie continued to act like I have never once fed her in her life and insisted on eating all of the chicken out of my salad. Thanks, kid, I didn't want that or anything. 

FINALLY, it was 6:30. CLOSE ENOUGH to her usual 7:30p bedtime. I ran her bath, plopped her in there {while I reclined on the closed toilet. I know, classy}. She begged me to put on a little puppet show with her finger puppets. By begged, I mean she grunted at me, while holding up her finger puppets, while repeating "dis dis dis dis". I couldn't NOT get down there with her, so I gave into playing and singing a one hit wonder, titled  "We are friends". It goes like this, "We are friends {while pretending to make all the puppets hold hands and dance}, yes we are. We are friends who love Emmie {then they all lean in and give her a kiss on the cheek}". Don't ask, it's a new song every night and she loves it.

Okay, bath was over + butt was diaper creamed {she pees like a machine at night}, fleece jammies were on, and hair was combed. Oh, and fingernails were cut {after much wrestling and many tears + probably a scratch somewhere on my extremities}. All that was left between freedom and myself, was a goodnight story and some kisses. Except, tonight no book was sufficient. We ended up reading the same book 3 times by default. {I know exactly where baby's belly button is in case anyone hasn't read that story.} I turned out the light, sang her her "night night song", and kissed her little lips. "Night night Emmie. I love you", I said. "I wooo yewwwwwww, mama", she said.

Suddenly the countdown to that very moment seemed silly. It was a meaningless countdown because I certainly need time for myself, especially after a long and trying day like today. But, that one little phrase, "I woo yewwwww mama", it put everything into perspective. So even though today SUCKED, majorly and severely, I was reminded in that brief moment that tomorrow is a new day and that God will never give me more than I can handle.

So, when you feel like it's the final countdown and you let out that sign of relief after you close your little one's door, just know that even if it was the crappiest of crappy days, tomorrow is bound to be different. Maybe it won't be great, but it will be different and for me, that's a relief. 

Cheers to you mamas {and daddy's}! Underneath those leggings and that graham cracker, snot + God knows what else-stained shirt, you're one of a kind to that little love bug that calls you "mama". Rest in that.  Oh, and pour yourself some wine {Jesus drank it, He understands!}


XO,


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