The baby woke up at 4:45, the distance between 4:45 and 5:00am is vast and long . Somehow 5 am seems like a somewhat acceptable time to get up but 4:45 is ungodly.
The baby fell back to sleep at 5:16 and I decided to get what I hoped would be an extra 2 hours of sleep .
And just as I settled into sleep the baby woke up .
I stumble back to her room and before I could lift her from the crib the 5-year-old is demanding waffles .
Change baby.
Let dog out.
Pour juice and make coffee .
Put baby in pack n play, let dog back in, put cream in coffee.
Start making my breakfast.
Baby fusses.
Pick up baby and put her in bouncy seat, finish making breakfast.
Sit down.
Realize I forgot to make the waffles.
Make waffles.
Attempt to eat my breakfast while holding baby in one arm.
5-year-old wants more waffles .
Baby is hungry, move to couch to nurse and dog quickly follows.
Realize I again forgot the waffles but, John gets them as he races out the door.
Baby needs a nap. So I rock and nurse baby for no idea how long. She eventually doses off and I put her in the crib.
Feed dog.
Attempt to drink coffee.
Dog poops on the floor because I failed to get him outside .2 seconds after he ate. Give dog the side-eye and mutter “outside” at him in my sternest voice.
Get reminded by the 5-year-old that “Elvis has had a hard life, be nice”.
Clean up poop.
Sit down to drink coffee, that is now cold.
5-year-old wants to hunt for treasure.
Go one treasure hunt, find treasure under dining room table.
Sit down to enjoy coffee and read the paper…wishful thinking.
5-year-old wants to go on another treasure hunt and when I tell him not right now he takes his pirate hat off and looks at me like a deflated balloon.
I never meant to crush his spirit I just wanted hot coffee.
Go on treasure hunt that involves 3 maps, multiple treks through “lava”, “poop” and “jelly”. Discover treasure hidden in his bedroom.
Baby wakes up fussing and I wait for her to settle herself.
Go get baby.
Start the meal, play, nap cycle again. This is all before 10 am. Wash, rinse, repeat. 7 days a week . The dishes, the laundry they never end. The toys pile up and the bathrooms need scrubbing. I pick up, I put away, I make lists, and hope to get more done. And at the end of each day I pour a glass of wine and think tomorrow I will get more done.
Ahhh, I remember those baby days. It always felt like a full day of things to do well before it was lunchtime.