Monday, July 11, 2005

About a year ago, I wrote a "tick tock" journal describing a day in the life of this stay-at-home-mom. Now that I work half time, and have a toddler, I thought I'd do it again. I love ticktocks. In fact, I'd love to do a newspaper column where I spend a day with someone once a week and describe their workday, hour by hour.
But sadly for you, I don't have such a column, so you'll have to be content in reading about my day.
4:45 a.m. Nutmeg wakes up and asks, then cries, then screams for "nonnies." Epu and I pass her back and forth.
5 a.m. I stumble to the kitchen to get a bottle of water, which placates Nutmeg somewhat. She tries to stay awake and sitting up, but ends up keeling over onto me several times, including one instance in which her skull clunks against mine. Ouch.
5:40 a.m. Nutmeg wakes up again, and since it's light out, I nurse her
5:45 a.m. We're all back asleep
7 a.m. We wake to Bing Crosby singing "Turaluralura, that's an Irish Lullaby," since Nutmeg's lullaby CD is perpetually in the alarm clock/CD player. Epu hits snooze.
7:10 a.m. ditto
7:20 a.m. ditto
7:30 a.m. I get up, make coffee, get paper, and, noting that Epu and Nutmeg are still asleep, take a shower.
7:50 a.m. Get dressed. Nutmeg still asleep. Tell Epu, "Sure, it's fine with her to party all night. She doesn't have to get up in the morning."
8:30 a.m. Everybody in car because Mommy has a doctor's appointment.
8:45 a.m. Epu drops us off at my doctor. I check in and open up a jar of baby food to feed Nutmeg her breakfast. "Baby food!" Nutmeg says, because this is an unusual treat for her. At that instant, the nurse comes out and calls my name, and I have to wheel a loudly protesting Nutmeg into an examination room.
8:50 a.m. Try again to feed Nutmeg some babyfood, but doctor comes in. End up nursing her instead to shut her up so I can tell doctor that the steroid inhaler she prescribed me for asthma is working out great. But presence of doctor freaks out Nutmeg, who still remembers getting blood drawn at her 12-month appointment, and she screams while I breathe into a plastic tube to measure my airflow. Finish feeding Nutmeg babyfood in the waiting room.
9 a.m. Take two buses home.
10 a.m. Get home and put Nutmeg in crib. Drink coffee. Eat meatloaf and read paper. Hurricane news. I love that word, "landfall." Check email. Sharebear's mom says that the Nanny called in sick on her today. She suggests we have a talk about deteriorating Nanny situation.
10:15 a.m. Nutmeg still not asleep. I go check on her and realize she has poopy diaper. Change, put back in bed, and don't hear another peep out of her.
Send out minutes from last union meeting, reply to emails, vacuum, put leg of lamb in crock pot, sweep and mop kitchen floor, call exterminator about beetles in back stairs, watch "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire," download and listen to Wall Street Journal, take down two loads of laundry. Take booster seat off chair and clean disgusting food goo off both.
12:30 p.m. Start straightening up bedroom, figuring that it's ok if I wake Nutmeg now that she's slept at least two hours. She wakes up and says, "read book." We read "The Things That You Find in a People House," which I always thought was a Dr. Seuss book, but isn't. I change her diaper and realize that her high chair is still sitting in the bathtub, dripping. Take her in the bathroom and hand her a towel, encourage her to help Mommy dry it off. She doesn't do much drying but enjoys checking out the back and bottom of her seat. Re-attach the seat to kitchen chair, put her in it, and give her cauliflower with cheese sauce. She says, "No." She asks for Cheerios, which I give her, and she eats a couple. So I get out the rest of the babyfood, which she eats. Cut up a couple of cherries, which she also eats. I eat the cauliflower and cheese sauce. "Mmm," I tell her. "Yummy cauliflower." She looks at me like, "shah," and says, "more cherries!"
1:30 p.m. Clean up Nutmeg, get her dressed, and head to basement. Nutmeg plays with her ball while I do laundry. Head to park. End up pushing a couple of desperate-for-attention neighborhood kids on the swings as well as Nutmeg. Some other little kids try to play with her, but their mom screams at them nonstop to be gentle, to cut it out, to leave the baby alone.
2 p.m. Hit Bed, Bath and Beyond, looking for a ducky bath mat. Let Nutmeg carry a variety of ducky items for entertainment, but find no ducky bath mat. Let Nutmeg get out of strollers and play with plastic drawers in order to cut down on screaming. There is still a lot of screaming. Buy ducky-shaped soap dispenser for bathroom (because it's more sanitary to wash hands w/ liquid soap) and a refill for sponge mop. Am thrilled to be allowed to use a separate 20% off coupone on each.
2:45 p.m. Trader Joe's. Buy organic stuff, regular stuff, eat free sample. Let Nutmeg hold various food items, then apologize to many, many people who almost trip over said items when Nutmeg flings them to the ground with a yowl of "no!" Tell checker about how good my baby always was until recently, something I find myself telling everyone within earshot, all the time. Give Nutmeg organic vanilla animal cookie, and eat five of them myself.
3:40 p.m. Let Nutmeg play with her Barneymobile in basement while I do laundry. Get mail.
3:45 p.m. Put Nutmeg into crib so I can run back downstairs to get groceries and laundry. Watch her flop down onto matress and put pacifier in mouth, and fantasize that she'll be sleeping when I get back upstairs.
3:50 p.m. Come back inside to the sound of Numeg saying, "Hi, mama! Hi, mama!" Change another poopy diaper. What is it about entering the crib that moves this baby's bowels? Nurse her and lay her down again. Start writing this entry
4:00 p.m. Nutmeg calls for me again. Retrieve pacifier from floor, lay her back down, turn on Ophrah. Drink coffee, eat a nectarine and a carrot muffin. Brooke Shields talks about post-partum depression on Oprah. Tear factor: 7 out of 10, mainly at listening to a widower talk about his wife blowing her brains out and a review of cases of mothers with postparum psychosis who kill their babies. Did you a know one woman cut her 11-month-old's arms off???? Yikes. Fold laundry, make dinner preparations, work on this entry. Check my email 50 times. Why doesn't anyone email me?
5 p.m. Bring up last of laundry. Finish vacuuming.
5:30 p.m. Go into bedroom to put away laundry and find Nutmeg sitting up groggily. Change diaper and let her run around in just a diaper. Feed her dinner. Am sitting there reflecting on how much she loves baby food, and how she loves to look at the picture of the baby on the jar and say, "baby food." Stupidly let her hold the glass jar herself while she eats. End up on my hands and knees, cleaning up glass fragments while she shouts to be let out of high chair.
6 p.m. Nutmeg likes the new drawer. Play with her awhile, then read paper while she plays. Read about a mommy blog by an author I kind of like:
6:30 p.m. Turn on "Friends." I've seen it already. We move to the bedroom and I hide the vacuum cleaner under our bedspread so Nutmeg won't be scared to enter the room. We read a Dora the Explorer book. Nutmeg plays with her toys while I sneak to the computer and check out Weiner's latest blog entry. Nutmeg tries to put a CD in the CD player. I help her and we listen to some classical baby CD. I put away a few pieces of clothing.
6:55 p.m. I call Epu and am saddened to hear he's still at work. He promises he's leaving now.
7 p.m. Turn on "Friends." I have only sort of seen it before so I leave it on while we play in the living room. Finish getting dinner ready. Color with Nutmeg and start sorting broken crayons to melt into big crayons in the oven. Nutmeg things this is fun and helps by dumping all crayons into the crack between the sofa cushions.
7:30 p.m. Epu comes home and Nutmeg toddles down the hall to meet him. He says he just heard about a job opening in Madison and some other work stuff that's got him all hot and bothered.
8:00 p.m. We eat dinner. Nutmeg back in high chair but doesn't want what we're eating, only wants "tummis" (hummus).
8:30 p.m. Epu giving Nutmeg bath. I'm supposed to be cleaning up from dinner but am writing this instead. And wondering why korilu hasn't updated her blog. Is she having her baby?
8:35 p.m. Take Nutmeg out of the bath, lotion her up, diaper. Love this part. She picks up sunglasses off bathroom floor, puts them on, and toddles around the apartment with her wet hair standing on end. Epu stays in the bath and listens to "Xenocide" on mp3 player
8:40 p.m. Nutmeg says, "People House," so we read that one. And Dora again.
8:50 p.m. Nutmeg asks to nurse
9 p.m. Put Nutmeg in her crib
9:05 p.m. Clean up from supper. Make a cranberry/lemonade with vodka.
9:06 p.m. Retrieve pacifier from floor in what is now well-established ritual
9:07 p.m. Continue cleaning kitchen
9:08 p.m. Respond to cries from bedroom. Nutmeg's whining, "nonnies, huggies, more nonnies!" I get her lying down again, and stand with my hand on her chest for a few moments. Put pacifier back in her mouth, say goodnight, and leave.
9:30 p.m. Finish putting all broken crayons into a muffin tin for baking. Watch part of "Hells Kitchen," apparently a reality show about a restaurant.
9:50 p.m. Put crayons in oven and put away toys. Epu on his computer.
10 p.m. Watch news and attempt to fire up my laptop to order groceries on with free delivery coupon received in yesterday's mail. Laptop behaves as if just drank a bottle of Nyquil, apparently due to security system installed by Epu last night.
10:30 p.m. Read a little bit of "The Epidemic: The Rot of American Culture, Absentee and Permissive Parenting, and the Resultant Plague of Joyless, Selfish Children," by Robert Shaw. Vacillate between being annoyed -- he lumps co-sleepers and "no cry" sleep solution folks with 'permissive' parents -- getting scared, and crying out, "amen, doctor!"
11 p.m. Finally get laptop working, too late to go through long process of Safeway order. Very tired.


Notta Wallflower said...

You know, I remember days like that. I know this will not help much in this instance, but I'm going to say it anyway because my grandmas both told me this and I think they were wise women: "This too shall pass". I'm talking about the "no, no, no" and the screaming and throwing, but sadly I'm also talking about the cute running around naked with sunglasses and the enjoyment of the little things in life.

Kori said...

Oooh, I love it when you do these posts! You should have a column like this---it would be a hit, I'm sure.

Let me just say, you are so much better of a housekeeper than I am. I can't even remember the last time I mopped the kitchen floor. Sad to say, but unless there is something sticky or stained on it, it never even occurs to me. I really stink at homemaking, I swear.

I wanted you to know I updated my blog today---sorry for the lack of communication. I promise an email or something will go out after the bambina arrives. Mike is on top of it. :)