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5:59am
I wake up and look at the clock. WHY. WHY AM I AWAKE? This is ridiculous. Whatever. I go to the bathroom, because I'm pregnant, so odds are I need to. During the forty-five seconds that takes, Judah starts crying. Touche, internal mama alarm clock, touche. I DO need to be awake.
Judah is a snotty, congested, crying mess. Fortunately, The Solution To All Things (his pacifier) is relatively easy to find in his crib. I mentally take his temperature- is he too cold? He might be too cold. I carry him to our bed, where Arthur is asleep, blissfully unaware that our firstborn might be a little bit too cold. I tuck the comforter around Judah and hand him his water cup. The next four minutes consist of Judah eating two-thirds of a banana, drinking some water, and going back to bed. I eat one bite of granola bar and go back to bed as well.
9:03am
I wake up and look at the clock. Praise Jesus. I listen- Judah is not crying. Judah is not talking, bouncing, or banging on the wall. THANK YOU GOD. This is not an expression- I am literally praising Jesus and thanking God for allowing my child to sleep two extra hours, therefore allowing ME to sleep two extra hours. His grace in my life is beyond abundant.
9:15am
Maybe I should get out of bed and take this opportunity to make breakfast before Judah wakes up. Or maybe I should check Facebook.
9:34am
Ok, forget breakfast, I'm waking Judah up. I need to make sure he's breathing. Plus, if he sleeps too long, he might not nap, in which case we might all lose our minds.
9:45am
I decide that we're going to Costco. We'll just throw on some clothes and head straight there. Visions of me strolling through the store with my son in his super cute pajama pants dance in my head. We'll be effortless, casual, calm. It'll be great.
10:45am
We both have clothes and shoes on at last.
11:15am
I am about to put Judah in the stroller so we can leave when he rubs his eyes. He's tired. If we leave now, he'll be miserable the whole time. I put him down for a nap.
11:25am
There is a loud bang that sounds suspiciously as though Judah has somehow figured out how to get the side of his crib down. Is that even possible?!?!? I rush in. It is not possible. He has slammed his head into the side and is bawling. I rescue him. We put our shoes back on. When I set him down, he is overcome with emotion and flings himself backwards, onto the floor, slamming his head into the leg of our bed. We spend ten minutes on the floor, he bawling into my shoulder, me kissing his forehead and weighing the pros and cons of actually leaving the house today.
Pros: We could buy butter, and we really need butter. I already have make-up on.
Cons: We could both end up crying on the floor of Costco.
I ask God to give me wisdom to care for my child well, because I haven't had coffee yet and I have no idea what to do next.
11:35am
We are bundled up and outside when I realize that I have no idea where Arthur parked my car for me.
11:50am
Found the car.
12noon
We drop a container of soup off at Arthur's office since I forgot to send it with him in the morning, and I'm convinced that if I feed him enough homemade soup his immune system will finally be wooed into getting him well. Judah cries the most heartbreaking, forlorn, cry I've ever heard upon realizing Daddy is just giving us a kiss and then going back to work.
12:02pm
I'm about to turn out of the church parking lot and need to decided which direction to go- towards home, or towards Costco. I feel sick to my stomach, Judah is cranky, and I only brought a little cheese for us to snack on. On the other hand, we still need butter. Costco it is.
12:15pm
But first a venti salted caramel frappaccino from Starbucks, because I have a free drink on my card and because I CAN. I complete my drive-thru transaction with one hand while reaching into the backseat to feed Judah cheese with the other.
12:21pm
The turn lane into Costco is a traffic hazard it's so full, and I can already tell that the parking lot is an accident waiting to happen. I'm stupid for coming the day before Thanksgiving. But I need gas, so...
12:30pm
Full tank of gas. My need to find a bathroom escalated from "soon" to "right now, woman" while I was gassing the car, so we find a parking spot. Judah cries when I leave the car for 18 seconds to get a cart, because he assumes he has been abandoned. A cop watches this happen. I try to make it clear that I am not abandoning my baby. The cop drives on. Whew.
12:31
Judah throws my Costco card into a puddle because I won't give him a drink of my frappaccino.
12:36pm
Judah does NOT crawl under the stall door while I'm going to the bathroom, nor does he touch any surfaces. He stands nicely playing peek-a-boo with me and doesn't even cry when the toilet flushes at crazy-industrial-public-restroom volume. This is my greatest success. I am a winner of a mother.
12:40pm
Judah pleads for "Mo, mo, puh, puh!" ("More please") as we pass the food court. I shove down feelings of guilt over the fact that he knows from experience that the Costco food court has pizza and frozen yogurt. My pregnancy has ruined my ambitions of a gluten-free toddler. Okay, maybe I am not totally a winner of a mother.
12:55pm
After speed-shopping, we check out and head back to the car. Judah is crying and pawing at me, trying to climb out of the cart and into my arms. I am trying to comfort him without letting us get hit by a car. We live. He gets to push the button to pop the trunk, and all is well.
12:58pm
He's crying again. I hear myself say "It's okay, we'll be home soon, unless Mama's bladder pops first." I realize this is less than comforting. Wait, could my bladder actually pop?
1:08pm
There's a parking spot in front of our building. This is nothing short of a miracle. After getting inside and a quick stop at the bathroom, I lay Judah down for a nap. He sobs into my arm the woes of a child who is tired but doubts that sleep is the solution to his exhaustion. I bounce him up and down on top of my pregnant belly and try to sing him "Come Thou Fount," but between the bouncing and how out of breath I am from running up the stairs, my singing is less than comforting. He claws at my sweater as I put him in bed and I ponder how long it's been since I last trimmed his fingernails.
1:14pm
There's food in the trunk that needs to be put in the fridge. Judah is quiet, presumably asleep, so I quickly run back outside to the car. For the ninety seconds that it takes me to bring the groceries in, I feel like a terrible mother and wonder how dangerous it is to leave a child alone, in bed, in a locked apartment for ninety seconds.
1:16pm
The food is put away and Judah whines softly as he falls asleep. This is good. This means he lived through me abandoning my post for ninety seconds. I am NOT a terrible mother, after all.
1:17pm
How is it only 1:17pm?
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