Whew.

It is ridiculously hot here.

R had a massive screaming meltdown in Target this morning. He was fooling around in the cart and bumped his head on the plastic handle. Since he bumps his head a million times a day, I’m not sure why it bothered him so much. Maybe he was just scared? He was pretty inconsolable. Being that he’s never had a meltdown of this magnitude in public before, I just went with my instincts. I picked him up out of the cart, made sure my cart was out of the way, and rocked him for a while. He continued to scream, stopping only to breathe, and I just comforted him and told him everything was all right. I didn’t even get any dirty looks from other people at Target. In fact, an older woman came up to me, patted me on the back, and told me I was a good mama. R calmed down after about 10 minutes, I paid for my stuff and left. He’s fine, by the way. He’s taking a nap.

I hope that woman knows how much her words meant to me. I said thank you to her, but that was insufficient. Moms are usually the worst when it comes to judging, she could’ve just seen me soothing a screaming baby and thought something much different, or gave me a withering glance. She didn’t though, and I am appreciative of that.

Have a happy 4th everyone.

What Am I Thinking?

R and I are going to take a plane ride in August, to my parent’s house.

I am not afraid of flying, thank goodness. I’m just freaking out about all the little things I can’t control. Like R. Feeding him on a plane. Getting through security with all his stuff, and my stuff. How he’ll act on a plane. That it will probably be easier than flying with an anxious chihuahua, but now that I’ve said that, it will be worse.

Luckily it’s a short plane ride. I want to see my parents more than I want to not deal with flying with R. So, I’m going.

Someone’s awake from a way too short nap. Must run.

Feelings.

I was thinking about how I felt while I was pregnant.

I never let myself get excited about it. I was afraid that the second I did, something bad would happen. I had recurring dreams about R dying before I gave birth.

I have no idea why I felt this way. I had a high risk pregnancy because of my issues, not his. In fact, I was practically complication free. He was delivered early because of the placenta not functioning as it should, but that was it. He was healthy and thriving the whole time.

Yet, I was still terrified. I hope I didn’t pass this on to R.

Don’t Stop.

When it rains, it pours.

R and I went grocery shopping. He took this opportunity to be restless and bored. I was constantly trying to entertain him. On top of which, my husband decides to dictate his personal grocery list to me via text message, as I’m shopping. I may kill him when he gets home.

Naps are my saving grace these days. I feel like such a bad mom lately. I’m tired all the time, not that I can remember a time I wasn’t tired, and I let so much go. I took 20 minutes today, laid on the couch, and watched R play. Now he’s napping and I wish I’d played with him instead of just watching.

Is it wrong that I can’t wait for preschool?

Off.

Silence. Wonderful silence.

I hear a crackle over the baby monitor. No. Sleep more. Please.

‘Waaaaaaaaah!’

Sigh. Trudge up stairs. Pause before I open the door, have my fake smile and enthusiasm ready.

‘Hi!’ ‘Did you have a good nap?’ ‘Cutie pants.’

R responds with content mumblings, begins grabbing at my hair.

Down the stairs we go. Attempt to set him on the floor.

‘Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.’

Sigh. Pick back up.

He sits in my lap. Turns around, starts grabbing my glasses, hair, face. Putting his fingertips all over me, probing, feeling. Does he have to? Why can’t he just leave me be?