On Sunday Pete departed for a much needed and well deserved getaway—he and his buddy are hiking all 30 miles of the Art Loeb Trail in the Pisgah National Forest over three days. There was a time when I too would consider braving the elements, exhausting myself on steep climbs and sleeping on the ground a “getaway.” In these days of early parenthood however, we have to be very choosy about our escapes, and I’d say that when compared to oh, pretty much anything else, none of the above sounds that appealing. Hence Pete going without me and hence me being single mom for a few days.
Needless to say, things have been a little chaotic for me, and after remarkably perfect behavior from Norah on Sunday night I was not very prepared for what was to come on Monday. To start, both kids are sick and have been for about a week. I suppose that’s a rite of passage once your kid or kids enter the childcare system—germs galore! Anyhoo, Crosby seems to have been hit harder than Norah, and on Monday his once cough/cold turned into a fever so he was a wee bit on the pissy side and not so easily consoled. Norah expressed her distaste for his incessant crying by sticking her fingers in her ears and proceeded to whine hold me-hold me-hold me because of course I was holding Crosby (funny how when I get home from work and my arms are free she often has no interest in them). She also needed to eat dinner (what’s dinner? said the single parent) and so I juggled comforting angry baby with feeding hungry toddler among a symphony of crying and whining and most definitely wanted to cry myself.
After Crosby finally went to sleep, Norah and I headed to her room to spend a little crying-free time together before she too hit the hay. Or so I thought. I got her out of her day clothes in preparation for jammy-jams and told her she could pick them out (she’s really into doing things herself). She initially opened the wrong drawer and guess what she forgot to move when she slammed it shut? Yes that’s right, her tiny little fingers. The look of shock and horror on her face was enough to make me pass out, but of course I quickly opened the drawer, removed her fingers, and rocked her in my arms. As the sobfest began to subside I stood her up in the hopes of calming her down completely and getting back to the bedtime routine. There she stood, butt naked, tears in her eyes, chest heaving and then it started…the giant stream of pee straight onto the floor. Panicked I grabbed her clothes and threw them under it intending to protect the rug and then noticing that that might not be enough, I cupped my hands and stuck them into the stream. Let me say that again: I caught my daughter’s pee in my hands. Why? To protect the rug? Really? I have no freakin’ clue other than it just seemed like the right thing to do in the moment. Norah has been doing so incredibly well with potty training, that peeing on the floor upset her even more, and so once again I was consoling my baby girl. Luckily some good clean fun washing her off in the bathroom sink was enough to bring her back to happy and then she too went to sleep. After that I managed to scrounge up some pepper jack cheese and wheat thins for my dinner and then finally, fuckin-a finally, I was able to call it a night.
Can’t wait for daddy to come home!!
Elderland out. XO.