You know how some days start off perfectly normal and then take a turn for the worse…and then just keep turning and turning? That’s my day today. And it just so happens to be Friday the 13th (superstitious much?).
Our day (I say our because my day isn’t just mine these days – it’s mine and my baby’s – and my dog’s too) started off a bit later than usual, with little man sleeping in until 10am, which makes sense given that he didn’t sleep until 11pm the night before (his FOMO is real, people). He awoke in his usual chipper, smiling mood, ready to chase the dog and face the day. We had a play date at 1pm, so we took our time with breakfast and walking the dog, put on a cute dinosaur outfit (him, not me – I have no cute outfits anymore), and had a nice twenty block walk to the play room.
We played for an extra long time, especially enjoying the play spatula, purple onions, bouncy balls, and sliding on the slide. Mini man nursed, fell asleep, woke up all “Where’d the boob go?,” nursed some more, then finally fell into a serene slumber for the walk home. I was feeling hopeful his nap would last a while because I picked up some Vietnamese food on the way, and started to fantasize about a leisurely meal actually sitting down at the dining table, by myself, and doing nothing but eating and staring out the window. Ahhh… what a life!
We made it past the doorman, cleared the lobby, I started taking off my coat, just too excited to be home and… lunch! And wouldn’t ya know it, as soon as we step into the elevator, someone wakes up. I think to myself, “He’ll go back to sleep,” so I let him whimper a bit, but before we made it up twenty stories, the “Get me out of here” cry was real.
Ok, no big deal, we’ll eat lunch together! I have some nice lentil pasta and sweet potato that he can dig into on his own and I can eat my soup – he’ll be my little lunch date! Maybe I can catch a glimpse out the window too!
Well… I must have been smoking crack to have such a fantasy because for some unknown reason the lunch he normally loves wasn’t up to his taste today. I was able to decipher this because he started tossing fistfuls onto the floor (err, Persian rug). I thought “Hmmm, maybe he wants to be spoon fed” so I tried that, and nope, he wasn’t having that either. All very unlike my son who loves to eat, and especially loves to feed himself. So I sat him on the floor with his mound of toys and his water bottle, determined I was going to at least sit down and eat my lunch, which translated into shoveling hot soup into my mouth faster than any sane human should, burning my mouth, and trying not to look over at my baby who was giving me the most pathetic look like “Hey, what about our lunch date?”
After my not-so-leisurely lunch, I felt bad for baby boy, so I sat him in his high chair in the kitchen to give him a treat. A pouch of pears with kiwi, which I thought he’d like. A few bites in, he started turning his head away and making a face. My how picky we are today, Mr. Man! By the last spoonful of half the packet, I started to suspect something wasn’t right. So I read the ingredients and they’d snuck both apple and whey into the fruit sauce. What the heck? My son is allergic to both of those things! And I normally am so diligent about reading the labels because they’re always trying to sneak apple into every baby food. ARGH. All around his little mouth started to turn red, then his eyelid, and then some hives showed up. And then the throw up. Ohhh this is not good.
So I gave him a teeny bit of Benadryl to settle the allergy down a bit and it started to look a bit better within a few minutes. Phew! I laid him down on his nursing pillow to comfort and nourish him, thinking he’d take a nap and wake up like it all never happened. It was going fine until out of the blue, as abruptly as can be, he rolls over and down off the pillow and KERPLUNK onto the floor, onto his forehead. OH MY GOD. He cried and we hugged and he got distracted with the phone, which I took as a good sign that he wasn’t broken. At this point, I look up to the heavens like “Really, is this all happening at once?”
My poor baby. My mother’s intuition tells me to go lay in bed with him and nurse him and he’ll fall asleep and feel all better. HA! He can’t be still – he rolls around, sits up, pulls himself up to standing, keeps dropping toys over the edge and trying to dive after them (did we not learn a lesson in heights, son?) – he just can’t be contained. So I keep reeling him back from the edge and letting him do his thing and wear himself out. After like thirty minutes of behavior I can only describe as exactly what a baby monkey would do, I see signs that he’s starting to fade. He can hardly keep his eyes open, yet he still won’t lay still. He ends up squirming and climbing all over me until, ZONK, he falls asleep mid squirm, face down into my thighs (was he trying to return to the womb?). I took a photo to remember the moment by, then picked him up and laid him on his back for safety. He’s been sleeping soundly since (I keep checking to make sure he’s breathing – a habit that I imagine I’ll stop doing when he’s… eighteen?), and so here I am documenting it all.
What a day. And it isn’t even over yet. But I’m feeling good that things are going to look up from here. We just need to survive a dog walk in the dark before we can lock ourselves in a padded room until midnight.