Our smallest Sugar Muffin is four months old and in the middle of a growth spurt. The last two nights have found me nursing her every.single.hour (not even kidding) and sleeping most of the night in our bedroom recliner. Both girls woke up for the day around 8am, while I tried to bravely muster the strength to get out of bed and face the day. While checking my phone for the time, a calendar notification popped up at 8:20 with a reminder of a 8:30 appointment. What the whaaaaaat? I clicked the notification and it said “Baby’s Doctor Appointment”. Crap. I jumped out of bed and called the pediatrician.
RECEPTIONIST: “Hello, how may I help you?”
ABBEY: “Hi, my name is Abbey. Does my youngest daughter have an appointment this morning?”
RECEPTIONIST: “Yes, she does. She has a 4-month checkup at 8:30.”
ABBEY: “I was afraid of that. First I head of it was about 60 seconds ago, soooooo, I’m afraid we’re not going to make it.”
RECEPTIONIST: “Are you aware of our Cancellation Policy?”
ABBEY: ‘”I’m sure I signed something that said I understood your Cancellation Policy. Does it involve a fee?”
RECEPTIONIST: “Yes, a $40 fee.”
ABBEY: “Well, I can’t be there in 8 minutes, so I guess we’re going to have to pay the fee.”
RECEPTIONIST: “Okay, our calendar is booked for the 6 weeks, so we’ll have to figure out when we can reschedule her visit.”
Great. My girls have been going to this pediatrician for almost 3 years, and I’ve NEVER missed an appointment… sigh.
My crib-bound toddler is now vocalizing at exceptional volume that she is ready to get “up, Mommy!” My forever starving 18-lb. infant with two chins is rivaling her sister in the volume department and letting me know that it’s been a whole 1.5 hours since she ate. I scoop Ellie up, only to find she is laying in a small puddle of liquid poop. You’re welcome for that mental image. I call to our toddler that I’ll come get her soon, while quickly changing the baby into clean clothes and mopping up the mess. I’ve been awake 7 minutes.
I sit down to nurse. Breakfast is over for our huge infant about 12 minutes later, and I sit up my little milk-drunk princess to burp. Out comes her entire breakfast that she just HAD to have onto her clean, poop-free clothes, all over my bare arms, and drips down onto my nursing pillow that I had freshly washed 12 hours before. I clean up the emptied contents of my infant’s stomach and then go to fetch the two-year-old Queen. I’ve now been awake 22 minutes.
There is a small meltdown (are toddler meltdowns considered “small?) with her because silly Mommy picked out gray pants instead of pink ones for her… this is quickly rectified, and we head downstairs.
I decided this was a perfect morning to use my Chick-Fil-A calendar giftcard for a free breakfast, so I packed everyone into the minivan (whose name is Olga). On the way out the door, I asked The Original Her Majesty if she needs her diaper changed (I thought I smelled something suspicious), but she answered with a resounding “no!”, and proceeds to cover up what’s left of her snowman with her blanket… because obviously he must be Olaf and like warm hugs. Fifteen seconds later, I’m loading the baby into the minivan, when her big sister announces she has a dirty diaper. *sigh* Of course, she does. A few minutes later, everyone is poop-free, and I climb into the driver’s seat. I crash my head full-force into the driver’s door, and in my pain mutter a word that I have to apologize for later. Surely, it’s 5 o’clock somewhere???
10 minutes later, we arrive at Chick-Fil-A only to find that every other person in metro-Atlanta has decided today is a good day for breakfast too. We patiently (sorta) wait in the mile-long drive-thru line, finally get our breakfast, and then Mommy high-tails it (drive it like ya stole it!) to the nearest Starbucks for the largest amount of sugar-free (stupid diet) coffee that they could manage to put in a cup (I asked for a bowl, but they said no). It’s now 10:15, and we have exactly enough time to head to our local library for Toddler Storytime (basically 30 minutes of free educational babysitting – can I hear an “AMEN”?!), where we meet up with another Mommy friend and her two little ones. After storytime, the kids played while we discussed breastfeeding, sleep deprivation, and how much local zoo passes are (basically our lives in a nutshell). Time to nurse the starving 18-lb., 2-chinned infant again, so we hug, I wrangle my toddler back into the double-stroller, and I leave being thankful for how genuinely therapeutic Mommy talks are about how many teeth our little humans have so far.
Back in Olga, the toddler starts reading her library books, the baby gets second breakfast (let’s be honest… fourth), and then we drive 30 minutes to the mall to play at the free indoor playground. After loading up the double-stroller with 14 diapers in two sizes, hand sanitizer, wipes, extra sets of clothes for everyone, pacifiers, snuggle blankets, wallet, cellphone, 2-chinned infant, and The Original Her Majesty, we set off into the mall. We pass $342 purses and I laugh to myself that if I had $342 to spend, I would be spending it on a bathroom door that locked so I could pee by myself. We arrive at the playground, and my toddler almost hyperventilates getting out of the stroller. PLAYTIME! As she runs, chases, slides, and climbs, I plop on a bench with the baby who is napping peacefully, and start rolling my eyes at the cute moms with freshly-washed hair, size 2 snap & zip jeans, Coach diaper bags and no dark circles under their eyes. Wearing my staple hoodie, yoga pants, and 6-day-old hair, I notice Annalisa moving aside to let another kid go down the slide first, and I think to myself maybe I’m getting something right. She really is the most strong-willed, sweetest kid I know. Little Sister wakes up and we watch Sissy play for the next 45 minutes, until we all agree that we’re starving. Smoothies and sprinkle cookies all around! Oh, and another nursing session for the starving infant (big surprise), and maybeeeeee another Grande sugar-free latte for Bessie the Milk Cow (that would be me, people).
It’s now 3:30, so we head back through the mall towards the parking lot. We pass through a department store that is clearancing out winter hats, and Annalisa soon becomes the owner of a soft, orange hipster beanie… because let’s be honest… everyone needs one of those for $6. Back in Olga and headed home, The Original Her Majesty is asleep within 60 seconds (SCORE!), and Little Sister and I talk about world events all the way home. We pull in the driveway, and my toddler’s “naptime is over, thank you very much” radar goes off, and the baby decides an afternoon snack is needed (betcha didn’t see that coming).
The afternoon and early evening proceed to involve coloring, reading library books, watching a movie with a talking cucumber named Stewart, and me wondering how on earth my house can be this disastrous when we haven’t even been home all day. Josh calls to say he’ll be working late, and I decide dinner will be take-out. Big Sister (who is surviving on 30 minutes of naptime) is officially grumpy and Mommy (who is surviving on 8 hours of sleep for the last 3 nights combined) decide it is bedtime for The Original Her Majesty at 6:30. I plan on the baby following shortly thereafter, but silly me, the starving infant had different plans. At 7:30, Josh walks in the door to find every toy we own strewn on the floor, half-folded laundry on the couch, greasy-haired me watching Gilmore Girls and holding a finally sleeping infant (let’s be honest, sleepy snuggles are the best), and I’m sure he is secretly wondering what I must do all day (thankfully, he would never actually ask me that, because that man is a prince among men). He hands me a big Zaxby’s salad and I realize I’ve never been happier to see him. Our 2-chinned infant is transferred to her bed without incident, I eat my salad that has never been more delicious, and after 15 minutes of our favorite show, we both are so tired that we head to bed and are asleep by 8:30.
Thus concludes last Friday… just another day in the life of a mama with #2KidsUnder2.