Phone ringing, baby screaming, doorbell dinging, & dog crying

What a day today has been.  Nothing serious, don’t worry.  Like @SugarSweetBaby said, everyone is healthy & that’s what is important.  She’s so right & I actually reminded myself of that same fact today while I was crying in my room.

Yes, everyone is healthy.  Now that I’m a mom I am so, so, so grateful that Monkey is healthy.  I know that people have difficulties with their babies & I’m so thankful that Monkey is in tip-top shape.

But you know, sometimes you just have awful days and that was my day today.  My mood had nothing to do with Monkey; he was a perfect little angel.  It was Tarzan who was getting on my nerves about every little thing today.  I even told him to “shut up”.  He can be a bit repetitive at times & I was tired of hearing the same ole thing.

He asked me what he could do to help because he didn’t know what to do with himself.  I told him to go play poker, which he loved naturally.  I was looking forward to a quiet night with a glass of wine and some Dancing With The Stars.

But that’s not what I got.

Right when T. was leaving, the phone rang.  It was the photographer that was coming over to take night shots of our house because we put it on the market.  (More about this later.)  T. & I both forgot about this, but I told T. that I could handle it…  After all, I only had to turn on every single light in the house & open every single blind in the house too.  The photographer would snap some pictures & I would go about my business with no interference.

Wrong.

The photographer said he would be here by 6:45pm.  Usually I bathe Monkey anywhere between 6:30pm & 6:45pm, so this was perfect.  It definitely wouldn’t interfere with our usual routine.

Again, I was wrong.

The phone rang around 7:05pm & it was the photographer.  He asked if we lived on some random street & I told him no.  He asked if we lived in another random subdivision & I told him no.  I was annoyed.  My little baby was crying in the background because he was tired & hungry.

& you should know that Monkey never, ever cries unless he is hungry, and that’s just a little whimper really.  Tonight it was more like a scream.  I felt so bad, but I just knew that the second I started to bathe him the doorbell would ring.  I just knew it.

Of course I was right.

Monkey & I were just hanging out & I was doing all that I could to calm him down.  Then the doorbell rang.  I answered the door while Monkey is screaming in the background & my dog is crying.  The photographer asks if I could open up a set of blinds upstairs that I forgot.

Sure.

I run upstairs & open the blinds & turn on the lights.  Monkey is still screaming.  The phone rings.  I don’t even bother making a run for it because Monkey is my focus.

I go back with Monkey & talk to him, sing to him.  I try anything because I feel so bad for my sweet, sweet little boy.

The doorbell rings again.  Photographer asks if I can turn off one of the outside lights because it’s “too yellow”.  I go to the light switch & there are two rows of light switches, one with four switches & one with two switches.  I have no idea what switch is the correct one, so I start pressing all of them.  Lights are flickering on and off.  Monkey is crying.  I’m on the verge of crying.

Finally I find the right light switch.  The photographer is happy.  Monkey is not.  The phone rings again, first the home phone & then my cell.  And I start praying that he will be finished soon.

The doorbell rings again & the photographer tells me that he is all finished.  Thank God.

I quickly scoop up my sweet little boy that has tears streaming down his face & plop him in the bathtub.  I don’t even use soap on him.  I just give him a quick bath with water & then put his pj’s on.  He is trying to fight back tears & is about to gnaw off his fist.  I’m freaking out because I feel like the world’s worst mom ever.

I heat up a bottle & my dog is crying again.  I see if he wants to go outside.  Of course he doesn’t.  I think to myself if I remembered to feed him dinner & I can’t remember.  I check the trash & see the empty container that affirms that I fed him dinner.  I’m running around trying to comfort Monkey, while checking the bottle & hoping that it warms up the littlest bit so that Monkey will drink it.

Phone rings again.  Who in the hell keeps calling me?!

Finally, finally, I sit down on the couch to feed Monkey.  Before I can put the nipple in his mouth my dog is looking up at the couch crying that he wants to come up.  Okay fine.  Put him up on the couch.

I start feeding Monkey & there is peace in our home again.  And this peace equals no more crying.  So now that Monkey is eating & loving it, the dog starts freaking the eff out.  He is crying & starts walking all over the couch & on the pillows.  I start getting worried because I don’t want him to fall & commit doggie suicide, but at the same time, I can’t do anything… I’m feeding the little guy.

Then, as if my frustrations couldn’t grow anymore, the dog walks from the couch onto the end table.  Yes, end table.  Monkey’s eyes are getting drowsy & he’s sucking the nipple like a champ.  I am helpless & once again, praying that our dog realizes that he is too little to jump from the couch, let alone the damn end table.

Finally I start talking to the dog & calling him over to me.  It doesn’t work.  Our little dog is super stubborn.  Monkey is so tired that he isn’t even phased by my slight raised voice.  The phone rings again.  The dryer goes off & scares the crap out of me.  I’m so ready to call it a night & am thrilled that Monkey is asleep all while finishing his 6.5oz.

I take him into his nursery, give him the nightly kiss & tell him I love him, turn on his lullabies, & walk back into the living room to put the dog on the floor.

The phone rings again & I answer it very, very annoyed.  I tell T. that I will call him right back; I need a minute.  I want to scream, but inside go throughout all 6 bedrooms, the game room, our offices, & the media room to turn off the lights & close the blinds.  I also pour myself a glass of wine while realizing that I need to eat dinner but do not care about food at the moment.

I plant my ass on the couch & call T.  I tell him of my annoying night.  He tells me to pour a glass of wine & I tell him that I’m one step ahead of him.  I wish him luck & tell him that I don’t feel like talking on the phone.  & now I’m blogging.

Whew.  I hope your night was a lot less annoying than mine.

You might also want to read:

1. 15 weeks pregnant and the floodgates have opened: Crying during pregnancy and beyond?
2. Make. The. Baby. Stop. Screaming…Pretty Please.
3. Oh. My. Gosh. – Lunching with a screaming child makes me want to pull my hair out
4. 10 ways our baby has told me how much he loves me and how to tell if your baby loves you!
5. Crying when pregnant

Tagged as: baby, baby boy, Mother