It all began the night before (Thursday) when neighbor-friend got me all excited about Triathlon. Being of a stature built more for comfort than for speed, I had always assumed that a triathlon was composed of the standard Ironman distances. Clearly not for me. However I was introduced to the notion that there are varying lengths including but not limited to a "Lilah-length" triathlon. I Googled well into the eleven o' clock hour all jacked up and excited for a shorter yet reasonable escapade into the world of athleticism, endorphins, and all that fabulous junk.
I turned in to bed a little after 11:00pm and proceeded to roll and toss and fidget myself unsuccessfully to sleep until about midnight. Having Rob breathing loudly beside me of course did not help. When the acquisition of sleep becomes too difficult I believe in taking a break and then trying again. Thus I trotted my wonderful self into the living where I parked my tush in the man-chair to knit while enjoying a bit of the "Sex & the City: the Movie". Because really, could a midnight break get any better than my beloved pastime and four of my favorite fabu-lebrities? I got my fix and crawled into bed a little after 1:00am for some well-prepared for slumber.
Shortly after 1:14am the Gracie alarm goes off. There were no initial worries, she occasionally needs a little help back to sleep and I'm more than happy to oblige because she's my baby and that's what this mom does. Only she sounded horrible. There was mucho congestion all about her nose area. I rocked her, she cried, and we rocked some more. And more. And more. I finally put her down asleep and she woke instantly, crying of course. The diaper was changed, more rocking. She was put down in the crib again and woke instantly, again. We tried a bottle, and of course more rocking. I got her in the bed and to sleep around 2:45am and then retired to my spot of intended slumber only to hear her wake up, crying. This proceeded until 4:00am. I cannot remember how or why she finally gives in, I only remember that she did.
Amazing Grace woke up at her usual 7:30am, of course. Fan-flipping-tastic. I am not joking when I say I cannot function on approximately four hours of sleep. Six hours is a REQUIREMENT but a good seven to eight is what I prefer. I stumbled into the living room to find Rob watching Sport Center while eating his breakfast (normal morning behavior for the Rob) but I then found there were no clean bottles in our kitchen (note: in our family, bottle cleaning is Rob's job, period). Sputtering something about having to teach a class full of Navy Supply Corps Officers shortly, I brusquely interrupted that I didn't care if President Obama was waiting for him, he would not be leaving the house without some clean bottle in it.
Amazingly enough I was then awake enough to notice that Sesame Street was a re-run (it may be public broadcasting, but Grace and I are so over the "hat-wearing contest" episode, my friends). I also found time to cut my nails, because I sport shorty-short mom nails. I believe this look is both stealth and efficient in eliminating the space I can get baby-bodily-bits trapped up in there. I snuck a quick shower and updated my Facebook status (my priorities are clearly questionable). We were then on the road a mere five minutes late to the appointment I was able to clinch with the pediatrician.
En route, a very rude man cut me off from the FAR RIGHT LANE to get into the left turning lane at about 15/mph. Overtired Lilah-instinct utilized not just the breaks but the newly mom-iquered middle finger as well. Go me. Generously enough, my ipod shuffled us up some ABBA and I was instantly uplifted and found my second wind.
After checking in at the pediatrician's office, I brought Grace to the bathroom to change her out of her pajamas and soiled diapery mess. Shortly thereafter, one of the office nurses knocked at the door and announced they were ready to see us (clearly NOT because we had to wait over an hour for the doctor in the exam room). I rapidly tried to cram our stuff into the diaper bag while slinging 23lb Grace onto my sweaty hip in one felled swoop. When exiting the bathroom, the door sprung back unexpectedly into my poor child's head. Awesome. Grace was shrieking and the whole waiting room gave me "that look" as we marched shamefully to the exam room.
In the end we left with the cold we arrived with, no more, no less. I'm a good mom, and despite the head injury, I got us there and back safely. Getting her checked out turned out to be a complete waste of time, but mommy-instinct let me know it was the thing to do. Friday was the longest morning I could remember. Probably because it was an adventure packed 12 hours I was able to experience every single one of. Then again I am a mom, and I love it.
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