So far, that’s what I’m batting today. The baby woke up early, instead of giving her the pacifier back to see if she’d go back to sleep, my husband got her out (yeah, that automatically means 7 or 8 feedings instead of 6, great!) of her crib while I was frantically peeing. She didnt go immediately back to sleep as she normally does when she wakes up before the sun, so then I was awake. My husband was able to go back to sleep. I had to do laundry because none of my nursing bras were clean.
As my husband waited until the weekend to do his homework, whiling away evening hours while the baby was in bed playing around or watching TV, I’m basically a single parent again until he can get it done. In the meantime, I’m trying to keep her calm, get her fed and cleaned up, pack up everything I possibly can by myself, oh and clean the apartment too.
Looks like the buddy my husband helped move (twice), is magically going to be ‘busy’ or ‘out of town’ when we need him. Again, fabulous! It’s all going SO smoothly. I started cleaning the sliding doors and ran out of windex. Great. I’m already out of the stuff to clean toilets. Not to mention the damn toilets had poop on them when we first got here (yes, it’s still there, I told you I didnt have the stuff to clean the toilets with!). Then I worked on the oven, I had already sprayed it and went to clean it all up. Ran out of one roll of paper towels, tryed to respray it, and ended up inhaling a big bunch of it (whereupon I cussed and my husband made fun of me for it), then I almost sprayed myself in the face with the oven cleaner.
Oh and in the 20 minutes I was planning on having lunch, the baby cried continuously, had a big old nasty smelling poop which of course I was the only one available to go clean up. I had to run the damn thing through the washing machine on its own AND go throw the wipes out in the dumpster, it smelled so bad. I dont know what crawled up her butt and died, but I wish it would come out so I could kill it again.
Now I’m here, because, well, I just knew I wouldnt get more than 2 hours between feedings (she was going 3 and like magic she all the sudden can’t sleep more than 20 minutes at a time) so forget resting at all.
Granted, my husband has gone and gotten the baby out of bed when my hands were dirty or I was in the middle of something, but he just plays with her and gives her to me. It’s not like it’s any big break or something. And we’re moving. Again. And not to our own place, like we wanted.
Some days, it doesn’t seem worth it. Any of it. Anyone else ever had a day where they were batting in negative numbers?