Yesterday my morning started at 4 am when little Elle woke up to eat. We were both asleep by 4:45 but back up again at 5:45, 6:00, 6:15, and at 6:45 I gave up and let the day begin. Lincoln was up within the hour and his sister would not give us a break. She wouldn’t eat, she wouldn’t take a pacifier, being held wouldn’t soothe her, and this was all before I’d had a chance to eat breakfast*.
*I’m the queen of hangry. And my patience shrinks without food. These same events would have been infinitely more manageable if I’d eaten a granola bar.
I finally decide she was just overly tired and needs to go back to sleep. So, baby girl was in her room (fussing, not sleeping), Lincoln was in his high chair eating a fruit pouch and some cheerios, and I had the audacity to pour myself a bowl of cereal. Within minutes Adelaide is screaming (again), Lincoln has thrown his fruit pouch directly at my face, and I am trying to keep my cool. Breakfast is over for Lincoln (when he throws food, the meal is done) and he’s in tears. Adelaide is still screaming. And my bowl of cereal is way past soggy. And it wasn’t even 7:30 am.
This afternoon I was snuggled up with Adelaide in her room while she ate, listening to the rain outside. A naked little Lincoln came running in, animatedly telling me all about the thunderstorm he’d been playing in. I held one content baby while my other one jumped around (well, attempted to jump – he’s still working on getting both feet off the ground at the same time), waving his hands, and pointing at the ceiling (which I interpreted as talking about the rain).
Pretty soon it was time for Adelaide to take a nap and after lying her down, Lincoln came over to rub her arm while “singing” to her as she started to drift off. The two of us left the room, hand in hand, while Adelaide finished putting herself (silently) to sleep.
Just a high and a low from the week – because my struggles and joys these days tend to be in the little things.