Alarm goes off.
Alarm goes off again.
Chug down a Boost shake and water.
Wake up Adelaide with a diaper change.
Sit down in bed to nurse.
Curl my toes in pain and count backwards from 10 until it passes.
Peruse Facebook, Instagram, and e-mails while nursing.
Is Emmalyn going to wake up while I'm still nursing? She's going to want to eat. But wait, we're meeting family at the hotel for a
free continental breakfast.
Emmalyn wakes up, smothers Adelaide with kisses while still attached to me. Ow...
"Okay, Emmy, change out of your Pull-up so we can go eat at the hotel."
"No, Mommy, I want to give Adelaide a hug and kiss and lay here with my 'nigh-nights' [blankets] so I can be comfy."
"I need to you to get out of your stinky Pull-up. Now, please."
She doesn't budge. Great...
Put baby down.
Grab clothes out of Emmalyn's room, all the while with a boob hanging out. They've gotta air out, right??
Start changing into my own clothes.
Baby cries. Pick her up, sans pants.
Get her to calm down. Lay her back down again.
Threaten Emmalyn not to see her cousin if she doesn't get dressed.
Thank goodness, it works.
Baby cries again.
Maybe I should put her in the Ergo. But then how can I get dressed if I'm wearing a baby? Nope, that won't work.
Baby settles down.
Start to put on make-up.
Boob still out.
Emmalyn decides to dump an entire game board on the floor, complete with an insane amount of token-type pieces.
I've never even seen this game before. Where did it come from?
"Emmalyn, you need to clean that up. We need to go."
"No." Of course not.
Finish putting on make-up.
Still no pants.
Maybe she's hungry again. But I literally just fed her. But she's three weeks old--didn't the nurse say three-weeks is another growth spurt phase and she will probably want to cluster feed again? Yes, okay.
Feed baby again.
Boob's already out anyway.
Curl my toes in pain and count backwards from 10 until it's all good. Again.
"Emmalyn, please put away the game and put on your shoes and socks."
Did I feed the dog? No...
I haven't even brushed my teeth.
I haven't even put on pants.
Finish nursing, change the baby into actual clothes, put her into the car seat.
Oh, she's not going to be happy.
She's not happy.
Lather up on nipple cream and pack on the nursing pads.
Oh, such is the life of a mom...
Throw on clothes. Finally.
Game pieces are still scattered all over the floor.
Whatever, I'll get it later.
"Emmalyn, shoes and socks. Your sister is crying. We've gotta go."
By the Grace of God, Emmalyn gets her shoes and socks.
Grab car seat and diaper bag.
Shoot, haven't brushed my teeth. Probably should do that so I don't kill anyone I meet.
Walk out the back door.
"Mommy, hold my hand."
"I can't. I don't have any hands. Let me put your sister in the car and I'll come back for you."
Put Adelaide in the car, run back to help Emmalyn down the stairs.
Emmalyn decides to take her sweet time climbing into the car.
In a moment of impatience, I pick her up and put her in her car seat, despite the fact I'm only three-weeks postpartum and am not suppose to lift more than twenty pounds. Emmalyn is 31.
HOLY HELL. Feel a major pain in the back of my ribs.
I should not have just done that! Why did I do that?!
Oh well, at least I'm wearing pants.