Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Trail of Destruction

Yesterday was one of those days - the ones every warned me were coming as rugrat got more mobile.

I had got about 2 hours of sleep the night before, had a headache most of the day, and was sick to my stomach off and on all morning. Since moms don't get sick days, I still had an over-active toddler to keep an eye on.

It was like he knew I was dragging and took advantage of the situation to get into something every time I turned my back or went to the bathroom.

The morning started with me leaving him in the living room, eating a waffle, while I went to go throw up. A few minute later, he brought me half of one of those decorative plates. He had gotten into my husband's "curio cabinet" (meant to house stereos, but filled with random figures and plates of wolves, confederate flags, model cars and other things that should be relegated to the mid-90s rural south) and somehow broke it clean in two.

A little later, we were settled down in the floor playing with his toy trucks and I thought was pretty engrossed in it when I had to step out again. I should have known something was up, because he was really quiet. I got back to the living room, and he'd taken a bag of flour from the kitchen cabinet and dumped about half of it on the living room carpet, with a trail of flour leading back to the kitchen. (Yes, we have child latches on the cabinets - he gets them open faster than I do, so maybe they should be called mommy latches.

I pop him in the playpen while I vacuum and wonder why on earth I don't drink anymore, and he falls asleep. Since I'm still tired from lack of sleep, and still generally feeling like crud, I decide I'll take a nap too. I settle down for about 2 hours of rest finally, and am feeling better when I wake up, until I see the dog. Evidently, the toddler has woken up before I did and actually stayed quiet enough to let me sleep. Also the hubby has left the peanut butter within reach once again. You guessed it - the dog, floor, couch, toddler, and kitchen are all covered with sticky peanut butter.

I get it cleaned up, wash the dog, give the baby another bath, take a second shower myself because I have peanut butter all over my arms and clothes, and wonder again if I should take up drinking. Then I realize I couldn't afford it anyway, because I have to keep buying things like baby clothes and toys and more peanut butter, Which is why I opt for internet time and green tea instead. I get dressed, go into the living room, and start winding back the toilet paper he has unrolled and picking up pieces of the back pages of an old book he has torn up while I was in the shower.

About this time, the hubby gets home from work. He looks at me, the baby in the floor playing, and the path of toys and destruction that I haven't gotten around to picking up yet and asks what happened to the house. I told him our little hellion happened and I was too busy being sick and cleaning up larger messes to deal with the clutter today.

Since I felt almost human by that point, and really needed to get out of the house, I asked him to watch the rugrat so I could go to the gym (they have childcare, but the carseat was still in hubby's Ramcharger, and I just did not feel like dealing with it). I went, hit the exercise bike for 30 minutes, walked 2 miles, skipped swimming because I had errands to run and the pool was sort of crowded, and felt pretty damn good. I went ahead and ran some errands since I was easier to do on one of my rare solo trips to the store, and came home.

Rugrat and the hubby were both snuggled up asleep on the couch. Once he woke up, hubby was like "yeah, he fell asleep about 5 minutes after you left, I guess he was tired out".


Rugrat is being great today - he's been playing in the living room mostly within my site, cuddled up in my nap for a story, and is just being sweet and non-messy for the most part.
I don't know what yesterday was all about.
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