*Cracking an eye open*
I see it is 6:24 am. Thinking I dreamt the sounds of a murloc coming from A's room, I close my eyes briefly and doze off.
MRGLMRGLMRGLMRGLWAHHHHHHHH!
*Eyes both pop open*
6:25am.
Nope, not a murloc. Just my daughter, face smooshed into the mattress, pacifier an inch away from her mouth, alternately yelling/fussing/talking to someone (me, herself, her daddy?). She is ardently vocalizing the fact that she is unhappy with her current situation. There she lies, adorable footed pajamas with little flowers printed on them, soaked from shoulder to knee. That is the hazard of a baby who sleeps for nine hours without waking. Soaked everything, you know.
I walk in, see all this, pick her, smelling like the urine soaked diaper wearing baby that she is, cradle her to me and whisper "Good morning tyrant, I love you!"
Change her diaper while she smiles and kicks, then rolls away from me. "Hun, no you need the butt covering on, Mommy gets tired of cleaning up after the dogs and cat, she does not need you to contribute to the messes, thankyouverymuch." Wrangle diaper onto baby, get her dressed and fed, then playing happily with her feet, and the next thing I know I am face to face with a pee covered crib. Oh joy - notice that did you? The sarcasm that was darn near dripping from my words? Ha!
Muttering to myself...'Oh Booger, this is why you have a dry diaper all night long. It stays as fresh all night as it did when first put it on you at bedtime. The minute you wake up, the floodgates open. and you secrete about a gallon of liquid from your well trained bladder, fill the diaper, the sheets and anything else that is in the crib.' I pull a hamper close, drop in every last item she slept with, her sheet, the receiving blanket she was covered with, her woobie (blanket and Winnie the Pooh combo toy tihngamajig), and Eeyore all go in to the wash.
In less than two minutes, your bed has been stripped wiped down and remade. Mommy's plus 10 to haste buff is on, go me!
My dear daughter is now jabbering at the dogs while banging a rattle on a caterpillar. She sees me, I smile and walk to the kitchen to nuke cold coffee (yes the coffee was from yesterday, no I don't care, and plus it is not wasteful and the stronger the better :-D ). Her look says "Um, Mom? WTH woman?! I am sitting here, the least you could do is drop everything and entertain me! WAH! Ooh, soft, cat fur!"
It is now 8 am. Mommy is normally just now waking up, hearing a soft cooing from A's room. This up extra early thing is not for me. We *did* have a routine just this past weekend. However, Mr K's job decided he was going out of town this week which left me with no relief pitcher in the 9th inning. No, my go-to guy is lounging in a hotel room this week. I am the on call parent at night and first thing in the morning. We (Boog and I) are not used to this. We are used to going to sleep in Daddy's arms, him putting the Tyrant to bed because the daddy-daughter time is just awesome for all three of us; him being the one up bright and early (Thank you Navy for training him well here) and doing the first morning hour thing while Mommy tries to go from zombie stumbling and mumbling "caaaafffffffeeeeeine" to human mommy. We miss The Daddy.
Despite this temporary burp in our routine, we are getting along. I get extra cuddles in the evening and see that glorious happy grin first thing when she rolls over at the sound of a voice, sees one of us and all is wonderful in her world.
Those things, you see, are what make: the screaming for an hour because daddy is not there, or grunting at me because 'Hello Mom! I made stinkies over here, I need a clean butt now!' and the fact that Mommy never gets to bed early, it's not genetically possible for me, those things make me adore my job as
No comments:
Post a Comment