Today Is Not A Good Day.

Dear Benjamin,

I'm writing this post with milk dried in my hair and tears in my eyes. It's 2:39. You've been awake about 15 minutes. You were asleep less than 2 hours. After the morning we had, you and mommy desperately needed you to sleep your full 3 hour nap.

The day started out okay. Daddy got you up to discover you'd removed your pajamas and were working on taking off your diaper. You seemed to eat breakfast well and asked "mommy okay?" as I heroically vomited in the kitchen sink (I just adore morning sickness). You started to lose it when daddy asked you to put your socks on because it was time to take daddy to work (we just love having one car, don't we?). Socks were out of the question. Daddy asked, sneakers or boots? You chose boots but had a fit when daddy tried to put them on without socks. Socks were stuffed on to your toes and boots soon followed, you screaming "down! down! down!" the entire time.

The car ride to daddy's work was fine. You brought your ambulance but started to get mad at it when something was stuck. We dropped off daddy and wished him a good day and off we went to Starbucks for mama's morning sickness cure: caramel frappuccino and an fruit pouch for you. Next we headed to WinCo for our weekly shopping trip. I was complimented on being a good mama for letting you step through the bike racks, even though I was freezing. Hey - 2 minutes in the freezing cold is way better than the 10 minute tantrum for not letting you have a little fun.

Then we picked out our cart and started to shop. You like to help me in the produce aisles. You love to hold the bag and help put the oranges, pears, green peppers & onions in the bags. You'd love to help me tie them closed, but you're not quite there yet. Our downward slide began on the pasta aisle. I picked out two boxes of rice sides for upcoming meals. You wanted to hold them and shake - I said sure. Then you thought it was hilarious to hit me with them. I disagreed - those edges are pointy and hurt. You didn't really like it when I put them in the cart.

I got a repeat performance on the spice aisle, when I picked up a new bottle of Italian Seasonings. Again, you requested to shake and instead beat me in the arms with it. Into the cart it went. In the dairy aisle, you screeched to hold the yogurt but I said no. I can easily see you opening those up, mid store, and making a mess. I gave you my phone to play with instead and that kept you happy and occupied til we got to the car.

Then, my dear sweet baby boy, mommy had the audacity to request my phone back. This resulted in screeches, back arching and some slapping in the face by you to me. At this point, mommy may have lost her temper and shouted back at you "WE DO NOT IT! MAMA DOES NOT HIT YOU AND YOU DO NOT GET TO HIT MAMA!"

As I huffed to the front seat and flopped myself into the drivers seat, still seething, you in the back sobbing pitifully for your daddy: another lady walks by and smiles at me. I'm certain she heard my shouting. I was pleased to know I amused her.

Once home, we had big hugs in the garage and I apologized for shouting and asked you to apologize for hitting me. We came inside, had yummies and watched Caillou while mama unloaded the car. Then you took that downward slide a little more. You decided Sadie needed to eat. You got a piece of food out of her bowl and shoved it in her face. Sadie was not hungry. She'd already eaten breakfast. You then placed the food at her feet and pushed her head to it. I have no idea where you learned that. We don't treat Sadie that way.

The following events took place in some order between that and the 20 minutes it was til we left to get daddy for lunch and let him take the car back to work: you threw a car at me, a fake ice cream cone, the candlesticks on the floor and/or at Sadie, you grabbed and pinched my leg, you spit your milk into my hair and you slapped me again as I buckled you into your seat.

Oh my little boy, you test my patience like nothing else.

I was so looking forward to your nice long nap, and going into your room to find a nice, happy, well rested little boy, ready to face the rest of the afternoon with me.

I'm ignoring you til 3:00. I'm hoping you choose to fall back asleep, but as it's now 2:51 and you're still in there chatting and jumping on the bed... I'm guessing not.

Daddy says "it's almost over and tomorrow is a new day"

Daddy has no idea what it's like to be stuck in a house with a crabby little boy and an equally crabby mommy. The time is endless. It's not almost over - it's never ending.