I enter his room, sleepy and bleary-eyed, and he proceeds to hand me each of his four bed fellows, one at a time. There's Winkolina (his bright green Uglydoll, picked out by Aud when Barrett was still just a belly lump). There's Giraffe (picked out by me the day of Barrett's first round of shots). There's Teddy (a gift from Aunt Misty and Uncle Tony, when we broke the news of Barrett's inevitability). There's Bunny (from his Aunties and the star of our "Little Bunny Foo Foo" dramatic sequences).
Then, of course, there's the Barrett. Needless to say, this makes for quite the armful as I feel my way carefully down the stairs, unable to see for sure whether or not I'm about to step on stair or beagle. If I make it down the stairs without falling and crushing a dog, a baby, or my face, we begin the morning diaper change. My success or failure at this endeavor is highly dependent on whether or not I'm able to keep Barrett, Bunny, Giraffe, Teddy, and Winkolina all on the changing table at the same time while dodging randomly striking limbs.
This is not an easy task.
Factor in the possibility of poo splatter, desperate to pee beagles, and the fact that I'm still not properly awake, and you'll understand why we're 50/50 on morning tantrums (that's a 50 per cent chance that I have a tantrum and a 50 per cent chance that Barrett has one).
I have yet to video tape the morning struggle, but I did manage to photograph a moment of peace on the changing table.
And yeah...motherhood is the shit.
2 comments:
Oh I was picturing little stuffed toys. These are epic size! I now miss when my sons were this age.
You win best mommy of the year award- I always just put Gwen on the floor of her bedroom. No midnight walkings around the house with an armful of companions to a cushy diaper changing station for her! Bravo, Sue, bravo. and including my above comment about just having her ride in the pack on bike rides, I'm glad I'm no longer in the states in CPS territory.
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