I had such grand plans for this weekend. The hubs was going to take the beasties (yes this is a term of endearment) to his parents Friday night. I had a Thirty-One Things party planned for last evening and was hoping to do the Color Run this morning. Although I feel TFTB (too fat to breathe) I was gonna give it a shot anyway. But the run was a little on the fringe. My running buddy was having trouble finding a sitter, and even though it’s supposed to be the happiest race on earth, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go it alone. So I hadn’t registered.
I envisioned an evening of coming home from the party, pouring another glass of wine and checking in on the race. Then I would pull on my swimming suit and head into the privacy of my backyard, flip open the top of the hot tub (seriously one of the best things that came with this house) and slip in, letting the water climb over me while I listened to a little Phillip Phillips on Pandora and watched the stars. Then I would climb into that big ‘ole bed, stretch out under the new flannel sheets and sleep. Uninterrupted. No baby alarm clock, set by teething. No middle-littles climbing into bed from a bad dream. Just me and the dogs. Quiet. Doesn’t that sound heavenly? Then I’d get up, enjoy a pot of coffee and maybe head into the race. But if not, instead I’d go check out the Vintage Market down at the Fort. I saw myself, coffee in hand, trolling through the booths of old treasures. No kids in tow. No distractions. Meeting up with my cousin and maybe sharing lunch and then heading home when the hubs called and said they were almost home. Oh bliss. I was savoring the thought of each moment.
But, plans change. Hubby took his bow for a 12.4 mile hike with a 2,000 elevation climb and with his mom out of town for the weekend, decided they’d all stay home. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE my family. But oh I was looking forward to a night of peace. But that’s okay. This was still going to be a great weekend.
I ran around after work prepping for the party, and when I got there we had a great time. I mean, how could I not? Awesome ladies. Good food and wine (I swear I gained 10 pounds). We were surrounded by Scensty goodness and I got to talk about my addiction. I mean, who doesn’t love pretty bags? I do! My party partner was also going to by my running partner and now that hubby was home, he could watch the kids. But it was late and when I tried to pull up the registration for the race, it wouldn’t work. So we decided we’d forgo it this time. I was a little bummed, but it was my choice. I was tired and with the fam home, I wouldn’t feel like I had a free morning anyway. It’s a mom thing, isn’t it? We never truly feel free when we’ve got the little beasties and the hubs at home. There is always that lingering guilt that we should be there. Does that ever go away?
Anywho, home after the party. The babe and the middle-littles were in bed so I got on my pjs and thought I’d watch some Netflix on my Kindle. Cozy in bed and all to myself. Then the crying started. A glance at the clock told me it was 10:30. Sigh. The babe was awake. I went in and cuddled him for a bit and laid him back down. Quiet. I smiled to myself and climbed into bed to pull up Netflix. But no deal. Too many users currently on my account. The hubs was watching Dangerous Catch and Bot Bot was trying not to scare herself silly with Supernatural. Arg.
Then the baby started crying again. And on this went. I’d lay him down for 5 minutes, scroll through two pins on Pinterest and the screaming would start. Each time it ratcheted up louder. I would hold him, he’d snot all over my shoulder, and as soon as I laid him down the screaming would start. I kept trying. Through sending X-Man to the couch to sleep. Through my hubby going to bed and snoring in the other room. After an hour I brought him to bed with us, where he tossed and turned and wouldn’t lay down. So back to his crib. No deal. Finally at 2:30 I took him downstairs, grabbed a blanket and snuggled into the recliner.
The dark brown leather was a comforting -10 degrees. The light from outside flitted perfectly through the shades, right at eye level. And the babe’s knees? They know just the right place to poke and prod and at 4 a.m. that would be my bladder and spleen. Baby feet are only sweet in pictures, not when they toes are using your rib cage as a ladder.
Can I get an Amen from the mammas out there? The night ensued with near black eyes and bloody noses, that babe has a HARD head. Just as he’d get comfortable my neck would start aching. Then he’d fling himself over, nail me in the ribs with those bony little knees and try and wipe away the irritation when he snuggled in close, his fingers in my hair.
After a few hours of not sleeping, he decided to be awake for the day. Why is it that a baby can not-sleep all night and wake up refreshed like he had 12 hours of uninterrupted bliss? Me? I’ll be drinking my coffee straight from the pot today, thanks. If you need me, check that recliner, which is finally warm. Or the coffee maker. I wont be far from either today.