All I wanted to get done this morning was a trip to Gumballs and Overalls in Rockford (about 15 minutes from our house) and then lunch with my husband in Lowell (about 40 minutes from Rockford). That's it. Get a few diapers at said store and have lunch at Arby's. Not too tough, right?
Wrong. So very, very wrong.
I managed to get the kids out of the house by 10:47 a.m. and get on the road. I knew the route to the store, so that wasn't a problem. Nonetheless, getting there proved impossible. Apparently, Rockford was starting up a summer celebration of sorts and most of the streets were cordoned off. Stubbornly persistent as I am, I finally found a parking spot a few blocks away, strapped Mollie into the Ergo Baby, scooped Baylor out of his car seat, and started walking. Then Mollie spit up all over my chest ... great.
By this time I only had a half an hour to get to the store, purchase a few things, and get on the road again. This seemingly simple task might have been possible in the time allowed except for one small problem ...
The summer celebration included a parade. A parade I would have to cross before I got to the store.
Still hopeful, I walked the couple blocks, carrying both kids most of the way, as Baylor was too distracted by all the people and noises to walk with any speed. I finally reached Courtland Street and my hopes were dashed; there was no way to get across. The couple next to me had no idea how long the parade was going to last, but the woman suggested I scoot across the street anyhow and even offered to carry one of my kids! I was just about to decline her offer when a parade worker came by and urged people to get back on the sidewalk away from the street. No chance of me crossing. I did, however, score some Tootsie Roll Midgies from a Mason with slightly dirty fingernails; if I turn up dead tomorrow, you'll know why.
Disappointed, I scooped up my little man, checked on my little lady, and hurried as fast as I could back to the van. Ugh. A block away, I let Baylor down so he could walk a bit and stretch his legs. I hated hurrying him as he wanted to go into the Marathon station nearby and inspect some flowers, but we had to get going; I had stood too long watching the parade pass me by and now we were in a hurry. Still, he stopped to pull a petal off one of the flowers and on our way to the car he halted at a sewer grate to try to dispose of the petal. I hate, hate, hate hurrying him and stifling his natural curiosity, but such is life sometimes.
Finally, I got the kids in the car, headed to Arby's, had a nice lunch with the hubby until Mollie started to lose it.
Then the kids and I headed home. Mollie was much happier once I got her into a clean diaper and let her stretch out on her play mat. Baylor suggested that she have some tummy time (seriously - he did) and I concurred that that was a good idea.
Once she tired of that, we read a Sesame Street counting book a half-dozen times, and Baylor tried on the tummy time Boppy.
Then he joined his sister on the play mat. All he wanted to do was share the chicken blanket with her ...
... and do "This Little Piggy" to her toes.
Baylor then wanted to look at his President place mat, and after going over them with him for a few minutes (as we have in the past), I asked him where Thomas Jefferson was. He pointed directly to him, then said, "James Madison, James Monroe, John Quincy Adams, Andrew Jackson, Martin Van Buren, William Henry Harrison", pointing to each of them as he went along (and obviously not pronouncing them all perfectly). I was very proud, needless to say.
It wasn't all wonderful moments, though. Mollie seems to be having tummy troubles today; she has spit up quite a bit, including everything I gave her one feeding. I can hear her tummy gurgling, but I have no idea what could have caused this.
Also, Baylor saw my belly button at one point and was fascinated. He poked at it and smiled. Then he poked at my stomach and said, "Soft." Yup, kiddo. Soft. Thanks for reminding me.
*sigh*
Then it was nap time. We headed upstairs, he chose a book, and we read it. I then told him it was time for Gossie, his pre-sleep book, and turned him around so we could snuggle.
Then he slapped me. On the cheek. Not hard enough to physically hurt, but my heart sure ached. I told him sternly that we don't hit.
Then he giggled and hit me again. And he laughed.
So, I nixed Gossie, turned off his lamp, endured a couple more hits, and put him to bed. He balked a bit, but he actually went to sleep pretty quickly. I really hope that is the last of the hitting. We'll see.
Oh, and just because it was "nap time" doesn't mean Mollie slept; she seems to be a half-hour napper just like her brother was when he was a baby. Ughhhhh.
Sorry for the whining ... it's been a day.
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