Putting the "MO" in MOFO since 2004

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Tuesday, May 31, 2005


gosh this is fun

Yesterday we hosted a little garden party shindig for memorial day. I can only call it a garden party because we played croquet and I want to sound pretentious.
I had that -everything is happening at once, Maggie needs her pajamas on, the pasta is overcooking at this very moment, I burned the pine-nuts, my parents won't stop asking questions, where is the mother *&$%ing basil, Jim keeps asking where my sister is so he can force a shot of his fancy new tequila on her, trying to cook with a 3-Summit buzz is stupid- kind of assault on my senses.
I actually got Maggie to sleep on the first try, and we sat down and I ate dinner with two hands. My parents left, We moved the rapidly deflating party inside to watch animal cops, and I fell asleep before seeing the 60 cats removed and neutered from the wierd lady's apartment.
The rest of the party went home and I fell into bed.
Every time I go to bed and think to myself "Damn, this feels good" as I hit the pillow I am woken up about 2 hours later with some traumatic infant-related emergency. This was another one of those nights.
I awoke at 1:30 a.m. to what sounded like an elderly rottweiller rattling with emphysema coming from my daughters room. It has to be the same noise a barking seal makes when left isolated and deprived of water for 72 hours. A high pitched and frightened "Arf! Arf! ARFARFARF!
Realizing that the sound was most likely being emitted from Maggie, I ran to her room in a dread-filled panic. She was sitting up in her crib. She looked tired, sick and utterly confused by these wild animal sounds coming out of her. I picked her up and she wiggled and cried and continued to wheeze and bark. She looked fairly terrified and I tried to soothe her if only to slow down the wheezing / barking.
Jim woke up (and he did not have his hearing aids in) and held her while I looked up Croup on the internet and called the nurse line.
Sometime between the time I learned that Croup can be dangerous and the time I left the message for the nurse to call me back, Jim had set Maggie back in her crib with a binky in her mouth with the impression that she was going back to sleep. She did not sleep. I returned to her room to find her crying and barking alone in the dark.
I sat her on my lap and rocked her as she finally let sleepiness take over. She rested her little head on my shoulder and slowly she relaxed and the barking was reduced to exhausted wheezing. The nurse called back and recommended that I steam up the bathroom and sit in there with her to clear her breathing path, so that is what we did. 2:00 in the morning, and Maggie and I were sitting in our steam - filled 50's tiled salmon colored bathroom just looking at eachother. It was kind of nice really. It seemed like we were the center of the universe. The only 2 people in the whole world awake at that hour surrounded by steam and orangey pink tile.
One and one half hours later, Maggie was asleep in her crib and I was asleep on the floor next to her. I woke several times, convinced she had died in her sleep. I jolted awake, raised my head to stare into her crib, fixated inches from the crib slats like an animal stalking its prey. I saw her stir. I hit the ground like a soldier to avoid being spotted. If she caught sight of me she would never go back to sleep.
7:00 a.m. and I awake to Maggie smiling down at me from baby jail. Her expression says "HA! look! Mommy is asleep on my floor. This is gonna be a great day!"
Thinking I am smart, I decide to bathe Maggie and get her dressed BEFORE I take a shower. This is in an effort to avoid the full-body sweat I work up trying to alligator-wrestle her clothes on, which ruins my makeup and leaves me frazzled the second I walk out the door. NO. Today is going to be different. I feed her, dress her and put her in her crib to play while I take a shower, dress and dry my hair.
I get ready, load the car, and race in to grab her and get her in her car seat. The half bottle of formula I gave her has spilled all over her pants. Crap. (note good use of foreshadowing). I get her a dry pair of pants and get a whiff of the massive nuclear poop she took while I was drying my hair. I flail and wrangle her out of soggy pink pants and dirty diaper. She tries to take off crawling six or seven times with brown-green poo smeared all over her butt and in all her chubby baby girl folds. It is a 6 wipe turd. I am sweating from head to toe, covered in diaper stink, and I am dizzy with exhaustion. I have not even left the house to "start" my day.
I drop her off at Grandma's and explain the barking. I drive to work. I pull into the parking lot and realize that I have forgotten my computer. I go back home and get the computer. Back at work one hour later, and I have 6 hours to sell the remaining 75% of my quota for the month.
I am so fucking tired.


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