I’ve Gone Completely Nutters

After a day of running around, (picking up a transcript, doing a BPO, stopping by the office for listing paperwork.) I arrive home frazzled.

First things first. Ollie DEMANDS food. But the last few days are a little less than fun, because Ollie not only wants food, but he wants to feed himself.

So I cut up an apple and a banana, and throw them in the food processor. Ollie’s in his high chair, and doing his “frustrated” sound. I can’t describe it, but he only does it when he’s frustrated. Can’t reach a toy, can’t get to where he wants to go, wants to walk, is tired of being in the car, wants to go home, etc. I get everything bowled and ready to go, bib him, and offer the first spoonful. He is so predictable, it’s not even funny.

The first bite is vicious, and nearly takes the entire spoon AND my hand off. The second not quite as vicious, but obvious that he’s hungry. The third, however, changes. He holds his mouth shut tight, makes his frustrated sound, and grabs at the spoon.

He refuses to open his mouth. No matter what I do.

So, a couple days ago, frustrated, I had set the spoon in the bowl in front of him, thinking I’d wait and see if he started acting hungry again. He IMMEDIATELY grabbed the spoon and shoved it in his mouth, flinging vegetable ham dinner across the room in the process.

Yesterday it was apples and bananas, too.

Today I fought and fought and fought, alternating between letting him hold the spoon and trying to feed him myself, meanwhile FREAKING OUT because I had so much to do and not enough time to do it in.

The fight started getting to me. I set down the spoon to grab the towel to clean him up. He grabbed the spoon with one hand and the bowl with the other, tipped the bowl and shoved it in his mouth, all the apple/banana mixture sliding down his front. The spoon, which was full, gracefully plopped a heap onto my carpet.

Yes, I know. I’m a first time mom, okay? Lesson learned. High chair does NOT go on the carpet. My dining room is carpeted, though, which needs to change.

Needless to say, Ollie was in desperate need of a bath.

So I run the water. I fill it about half an inch, strip the kid, and lay him on his tummy in the tub. Before you tell me that I’m a bad mom, in all fairness, he’s too big for the tubs I have, and he’s a very strong 5 month old. It’s also the only time I’ve seen him splash and play in the tub. The rubber duckies go in, and he starts playing. I lean over the tub and play with him for a while, wash his hair, and then pull him out and dry him off. We go back to his room and do the lotion/diaper/diaper cream/powder thing, comb his hair, and get him comfy in some new pj’s.

He and I retreat to the living room, and lay in front of the fire and play. He rolls around a bunch, I get some work done, and when I turn around he’s asleep. He naps briefly, then wakes up, but is quite obviously tired. I go yank clean sheets out of the dryer, and head back to his room to make his bed.

I quickly clean up, put a couple things away, and return to the living room and sweep him up off the floor. I carry him to his bedroom with the usual “night night” chatter. I lay him on the floor and grab a Pampers (the only thing I’ve found that contains this kid’s pee for his 14 hour nights!), and began to pull off his pj’s. I just start to pull the diaper off, and all of a sudden I realize there’s poop in it.

And on my arm.

And in his pj’s.

Oh. My. God.

So I start to clean him up, and set the dirty diaper and pj’s aside. Once I’m satisfied that he’s clean, I turn around to grab the diaper cream, and fast as a flash, he’s rolled over and is banging the floor…

…. right on top of the dirty diaper and pj’s.

Now he’s COVERED in poop. I pick him up, and then I’m covered.

I quickly dash back to the bathtub.

That’s the first time he’s had two baths in one night, anyway.

After the bath he went right to sleep, though, and hasn’t made a peep since.

My life isn’t terribly interesting, but it certainly isn’t boring.

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