Snarl.

It sounds like a lot of people had a crappy evening yesterday. Unfortunately, I was no exception. And, as usual, I'm prepared to vent. The day started out with me getting about an hour and a half of sleep. Then I had to drag Evelyn along with me to get a blood test, during which she shrieked most of the time unless I was holding her car seat and swinging it back and forth. When I had to pick up Ragsy at preschool, Evelyn in tow in her seat (apparently I'm still only supposed to lift 8-12 pounds; yeah, right - what idiot came up with that rule, especially when paternity leave doesn't exist in the U.S.?), Ragsy decided that it'd be a good time to start running down the sidewalk in the freezing cold. Normally I'm pretty calm, even during discipline. Today was not one of those days. I had to put Evelyn down briefly (protected from the wind only by a blanket), run after my kid whose hysterical laughter turned quickly to screams when I grabbed him by the arm, tucked him under one arm and picked up the car seat, hauling everyone to the car. It's not easy to get a screaming kid into the car while carrying a car seat in the other hand. I managed.

So, we got home. My husband forgot to call and tell me he would be late, so I was stuck again, with a starving infant at the breast while I hurried around to get easy-to-make food for a starving preschooler, not easy given that we were so out of staples we didn't even have bread, eggs or milk. Finally, everyone was fed, my husband got home and helped with Evelyn while I took care of Ragsy, who began shrieking while brushing his teeth because he was taking too long and I finally decided to put an end to it (yes, I know you're not supposed to hurry a kid, but I'm sure anyone would agree that 20 minutes to rinse one's mouth out is way too long). That wasn't received well.

Anyway, finally everyone got to bed, Evelyn included. It was 9:30 and time to go to the grocery. I got home around 10:30 and on the way received a voicemail from my husband, Evelyn shrieking in the background, who was apparently irate that I hadn't answered (I hadn't felt it vibrate even though it was in my back pocket). I got home and was snarled at, handed the kid who immediately calmed, then my husband unpacked the groceries. Finally, Evelyn was done nursing around 11:30 or 12 and it was time for me to get some dinner. I didn't want to bother, but I hadn't eaten since 11 a.m. The whole time this was going on, there was some palpable tension in the room with both of us mad at each other, and mad that the other was mad.

Finally, after my delicious bowl of cereal, we decided to go to bed. Of course, newborns being what they are, Evelyn chose the moment my head finally hit the pillow to wake up and begin shrieking. She was immediately handed to me. What did I do? I began to cry, of course. I guess the sleep deprivation had really gotten to me. My husband kept demanding to know what he should do. How the heck would I know? I'm hysterical! Finally, he took her and paced around our bedroom while she screamed - sometimes I think he does that deliberately so I'll take her - until I couldn't take it anymore and took her back. What did I do? I began crying again. That's the only logical thing to do, right? Finally, I decided that he'd change her and feed her a bottle of expressed milk because she usually nurses for at least an hour and I just didn't think I could take staying up until 2 or 3 a.m. My husband got a bottle and took over - not nicely; he decided to storm out of the room to get the bottle - and, since something was in her mouth, she quieted. I passed out.

I woke up and all was better. Of course, Ragsy was back in bed with us (Humpty Dumpty made yet another appearance - sometimes I wish he were afraid of monsters instead), but Evelyn, once fed well, often sleeps for 5+ hours, so I woke up at 7 a.m. when Ragsy grabbed my nose. Yes, he likes to hold my nose. Today is much, much better so far. It seems that Evelyn's growth spurt and the marathon nursing sessions associated with it have slowed down and my husband and I aren't mad anymore. And, even though it's not a habit we'd like to encourage, Ragsy is in a good mood from sleeping with us. Now I plan to get a workout, shower and eat lunch. A pipe dream? Absolutely. I've got to try anyway.