Baby gets fussy. Toddler keeps sniffing. Go into denial about the green goo leaking from her nose.
Scarf down lunch while the baby squawks grouchily from his papasan. Feed baby while toddler attempts precarious acrobatics. Burp baby and think he’s happy. Get squawked at again moments later. Toddler begins to feel effects of illness and eagerly accepts nap suggestion.
Attempt to put baby down for nap. Baby angrily protests. Try rocking. Baby continues protests. Give in and feed baby again. Baby slowly begins to drift off…
Toddler wails. Set down wide-awake baby. Spend ten minutes consoling sick toddler while baby cries.
Repeat past six steps.
Toddler gives up on nap. Baby finally naps an hour and a half later. For forty minutes. Squawking continues. Snot drips profusely.
Collapse on couch and pray for daddy to get home early.
In the beginning, this is pretty much how I thought all the days would go, for a while at least. I was sure that having two was going to wreak havoc on my life until I adjusted, and I wasn’t sure how long that would take.
But you know what? Days like these are rare. Surprisingly, the littlest munchkin has kept nearly the same routine since he was born, and my adjustment to two has gone quite smoothly. So I didn’t mind when this day showed up. I’ve been expecting it.Even the most consistent babies have their off days, even the sweetest toddlers get cranky, and even the best mamas get worn out. That’s what makes those good days so special.
Even little birds can’t squawk forever.
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