Today, Olivia was sick. Some vicious combination of teething plus a cold hit her hard. Poor baby, right? NO! Poor mom. Let’s talk about who the real victim is here: the one that had to be trapped inside with two children for an entire day. One kid whose crankiness meter is off the charts and another that possesses the emotional volatility of a cast member on The Bad Girls Club. Today played out so slowly and it felt as if every second of the day was ticking by like that digital clock on 24.
I knew I was in trouble last night when I heard nothing but lungs being hacked up on the baby monitor all night long. Of course my heart broke. It’s incredibly sad and pathetic to heard your baby coughing away and know there isn’t really anything you can do but ninja your way into the room to offer up sips of water. But honestly, why did she start this on a Sunday night? Why not Friday? Why not Saturday? Why not a night where I would have my husband for reinforcement the next day to manage the real fever and the residual cabin fever that manifests from being confined to the same 1800 square feet all day long?
Olivia was up at 5am this morning. She was rosy cheeks, glassy eyes, nose crusted over to the point where she no longer had visible nostrils. Cue up The Mother Goose Club, a nonstop collection of tortuous nursery rhymes sung by adults dressed in foam costumes feigning too much enthusiasm for them to be trustworthy. Sorry not sorry that I’m resorting to TV to babysit my kid at 5AM…especially after I was up between 4-5 times last night playing waterboy and pacifier bitch to her.
Sigh. I had such a nice little Monday lined up too: a morning-long First Friends play date that would allow me to coast right into lunch and nap time. Another play date scheduled for the afternoon, including dinner served at someone else’s house. Why, I would barely have to mom at all! Make a few meals, wipe a few butts and bam – I was going to be putting the kids to bed before I knew it.
Instead I was faced with a long day to fill and nagging guilt that as much as I wanted to, no, I couldn’t have the TV on all day. Exhausted, Olivia did grant me a temporary reprieve from her stage 5 clinging and went down for a morning nap at 7:30am. This allowed me to eat breakfast and pound coffee while I resigned myself to letting AJR zone out on the iPad with his BFF, Ryan. No, not a real person. Ryan of RYAN’S TOY REVIEW (insert my own disgusted shudder at how weak I am at allowing this).
Once Olivia woke up I was optimistic. She seemed happy-ish. I could deal with this. We all played blocks harmoniously for what I assumed must have been two hours. I looked at the clock. It was 9:45am.
I’m not sure what we did for the next hour, but by 10:45am I was piling the kids into the car to get gas and drive to Wendy’s for lunch. Processed food is known to have healing powers and the fact that I didn’t have to do dishes was an added bonus. We brought the food back. We ate it. Olivia rubbed her eyes and I thanked the nap Gods that her early morning nap didn’t ruin any chance of taking one in the afternoon.
A little while later I tried to put AJR down to nap and went into my room to lay down even though I know if there is one way to guarantee that my kids don’t nap, it’s to make plans to nap myself. Finally, after some threats, bribes, and weepy pleading he was quiet and still. I laid down with hope in my heart.
WAAAAHHH! AHHH! AHHHHHH! WAAAH! MAAAAAAA MAAAAAAAA MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA!
Of course. Olivia was awake. That 50 minutes was all she needed. And of course, I watched the monitor as AJR’s head popped up like a whack-a-mole and he said “I’m not tired!”. Fine. Get in the car, we’re riding to the Dunkin Donuts drive thru.
Medium coffee and box of munchkins in hand, I managed to kill 30 minutes of time. I swear I thought that was at least an hour. Fine, more Mother Goose Club it is. Those actors can bring happiness and joy to my children’s life while I hide in the other room and wrack my brain trying to figure out how to get us through the next five hours.
The afternoon was endless. Text from my husband “Are you surviving?” Olivia was a fussball, her amber teething necklace flashing mockingly at me. Whatever teething chakras it’s supposed to align within her essence was obviously not happening. I started making dinner at 4:25pm. And shoved approximately six munchkins into my mouth.
At 4:28pm Olivia decided that if I didn’t hold her while I cooked she was going to glue herself to my legs and cry. So, I had that going for me. Meanwhile AJR had racked up three timeouts and earned his fourth by throwing a toy carrot at me when I went outside to get the mail and scream silently into the fresh air. Honestly though, it was pretty hilarious to have a toy carrot thrown at me while he scampered away saying “Ah-lee-vah did it! Or maybe that’s just the madness talking. Still, you can’t go through life throwing toy carrots at people, so back to the timeout step he went where I refused to make eye contact in case I started laughing as I said “You can’t throw toy carrots at people.”
Dinner. Bath. Bedtime routines. I powered through and pushed everything up by 45 minutes. Finally by 7pm, the only sound to be heard was dueling noise machines and a cork popping.
I’m not completely heartless. Sick babies are the worst and I truly felt bad for Olivia with each little cough and tiny fingers shoved into her mouth to soothe a ready-to-pop tooth. I felt bad for AJR, too, since he basically got 5 minutes of attention today and I’m pretty sure four minutes of it was negative as I reprimanded him for various toddler offenses.
That said, I was on the verge of going nuts and throwing toy carrots myself. I / the kids are not “sit at home all day” people. I try to get out once a day with the kids at least whether it’s a play date, trip to the store, walk outside, etc. to break up the monotony of the day. I am suffering from a serious bout of cabin fever and hoping that tomorrow I have a happy, healthy baby that suddenly has all 20 of the teeth she’s supposed to get because honestly all of this cannot be for one frigging tooth.