Thursday, November 5, 2015

a(nother) day in the life.

Back in March, when Rowan was almost one and a half, I did a "day in the life" post where I recorded everything we did during the day, pictures included. It's one of the few blog posts of mine that I actually re-read, because I just love remembering all the little details. I actually intended to write one "day in the life" post per month, buuut...well, it's November, and here's the second installation so far. Ah, well. Here you go. A random Thursday with a two-year-old and her stay-at-home mama.

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Thursday, November 5, 2015

5:14 a.m.: I wake up with a start, thinking I hear Rowan stirring. I grope for the clock to check the time - crap, I hope she's not actually up yet. Somehow, the end of Daylight Savings Time made her start waking up around 5:30 instead of 7:30, and it. sucks. a. lot. But I don't hear any more noises, and I (miraculously) drift back off to sleep (and have a super weird dream about a cognitive obstacle course game show that ends with a "parents of young children" roundtable discussion).

5:57: Shit, there she is. She's crying a little, which means she's not fully awake or ready to be up for the day; if she were ready, she'd be singing in her crib. I debate whether to risk going in, tucking her in, and reminding her that it's still ni-ni time. She sounds sufficiently sleepy but unlikely to calm down on her own, so I creep in. She looks at me with half-closed eyes and whines, "I don't like this ba-ba, I don't like this ba-ba." In the darkness, I gather that her preferred pacifier (Green Ba-Ba) is lost, leaving her with the obviously inferior Yellow Ba-Ba. (All right, Ba-Ba Fairy, come on over.) I grope around on the floor, find Green Ba-Ba, jam it in her mouth, cover her back up, say, "Go to sleep...it's still nighttime," and crawl back into bed. I've got about a 15% chance that this strategy will be effective. Survey says...

7:20: Effective! Rowan's asleep still. I, on the other hand, have been laying in bed this whole time, reading on my iPad. I better squeeze in a shower before J.J. needs to leave for work. I'm starting to wonder if I should wake Rowan up so she won't fight me at nap time. That's right, folks; I'm annoyed if she wakes up too early and annoyed if she sleeps in too late! Never satisfied, apparently. I sneak a peek at her, well aware that my movements will start to wake her up.

7:35: I'm in the bathroom and can hear her playing with her babies in her crib. By the time I get out of the shower at 7:50, she and Daddy are reading a Richard Scarry book (omfg the worst...never-ending, those Richard Scarry books. And she LOVES them), and Rowan's drinking her morning milk.

8:00: Now J.J. and I are both in the bathroom, brushing teeth and drying hair and finishing getting ready for the day. Rowan's still in her room with her ridiculous Richard Scarry novel.

8:00: J.J. leaves for work while I get random stuff done. Over the next half hour, I vacuum the upstairs rugs (for the first time since Rowan's birthday party...in September), realize Rowan's still in her nighttime diaper, change it, refill the wipes container (from our accidentally-enormous wipes stash...I didn't pay close enough attention to my Amazon Mom subscriptions and ended up with enough wipes to last until Rowan has kids of her own), help Rowan work her record player toy, make oatmeal for her, and make eggs for me.

DJ Rowalie.
8:45: Eating breakfast together. Rowan, unsurprisingly, wants some of my eggs, even though she has her favorite oatmeal in front of her. "I need more eggs!" she says after inhaling half of mine. I tell her, "Sorry, they're all gone," and she responds cheerily, "Yeah, I ate dem all!" and then requests pancakes. I remind her that she still has a full bowl of oatmeal. She drops her Frozen-themed cup and gasps, "You okay, Elsa and Anna?!" She repeats the question until I finally say (in my best Elsa and Anna voices), "Yes, we're okay! Yes, we're okay!" She finishes eating and, while I put away last night's dishes, do the breakfast dishes, wipe down the counters, and sweep the kitchen, she chills with her 5-Minute Marvel Stories book.

9:00: Rowan needs another diaper change (I totally could've just waited for her regularly-scheduled after-breakfast poop instead of changing her diaper right before breakfast). I get her dressed and put braids in her hair, since Grandma did braids last night while she was baby-sitting and sent us a sweet pic of Rowan looking adorable and old.

9:35: We head to "The Kroger," as Rowan calls it. She spots a Christmas display outside the store and is beside herself with glee. She starts hugging all the figures while I stand to the side cackling at her and taking pictures. I stop her when she starts kissing them all, and we head inside.

My list-checker. "Says 'bananas,' Mama."

10:10: Back home to put the groceries away before we have to leave for gymnastics. On the way home, Rowan started calling, "Gymnaaaastics! Gymnaaaastics! I'm LOOKING for you!" Haha. I told her we'd leave for gymnastics right after we put the groceries away, and she responded, "Yeah. I see Coach Jamie [her teacher] soooooon!" Pretty sweet. She peruses her set of Doc McStuffins mini-books for a few minutes while I take a minute to check email and Facebook. She talks to herself: "Coach Jamie likes that book and that book. Two books! Her say, 'Hahahaha!' Silly Coach Jamie!"

10:25: We leave for gymnastics. Rowan drinks a cup of milk in the car on the way. We're there a little early, but Rowan likes to watch the class before ours and play with her friends before class starts. A bunch of the kids from my mom group are in this same gymnastics class, and I love how excited Rowan gets to see them. They're her first friends.

11:00 - 11:45: Gymnastics! Rowan is psyched to see her beloved Coach Jamie. We do some parachute play and an obstacle course before it's free play time. Rowan loves to jump on the trampolines during free play, but today she heads for the foam block pit. She leaps off the end of the runway into the blocks...

...and then bursts into tears - real tears, "I'm hurt" tears. She bent a funny way (backwards, with the back of her head toward her toes) when she landed in the pit, and I'm totally freaked out for a minute. I jump in the pit and haul her out while she cries, "I hurt my back, I hurt my back." We snuggle for a minute, and I make her walk around so I can see if she's okay. She's still crying, but nothing appears to be broken or seriously hurt. Still, she can't shake the tears for the remaining ten minutes or so of class - not like her. She lines up for arm stamps when the class is over and doesn't protest when it's time to put on her shoes. Finally, by the time we're walking out the door, she seems to be okay again. But then she ends up whining and crying for most of the ride home, even though she has two T. Rexes and a veggie pouch to keep her company. When we're turning into our neighborhood, she suddenly wails, "I need...I need...I need Mamany!" (Mamany is her sweet nickname for me...she calls herself Rowalie and J.J. is Daddily.) I reach my hand over the top of her car seat and tell her she can hold my hand, and we drive like this - my torso and shoulder awkwardly contorted, her hand clutching mine - through our neighborhood to our house.

12:15: Thankfully, she snaps out of her sadness when we go inside for lunch, partially because I talked to her in my T. Rex voice and told her the dinosaurs were excited to eat, and that they love mustard just like she does. This makes her giggle, and she eats her lunch - cheese sandwich and tomatoes, like usual - without a fuss. 

12:35: Usually, Rowan plays for awhile after lunch, but we got home late from gymnastics, so I quickly change her diaper (thanking my lucky stars that she doesn't insist on one of her twenty-minute potty-sits after I take her diaper off), and we head upstairs for nap. She falls asleep quickly after I put on her sleep sack and rock her, but her eyes pop open when I lay her down. This happens maybe every one in ten nap times, and it's annoying every time. I scoop her up again and resume singing "Mary Had A Little Lamb," and she drifts back off. The crib transfer is successful the second time.

12:55: Back downstairs. I'm starving and throw together a cold pasta salad with leftover spaghetti from last night. I check Facebook, write emails, cancel my accidental Kindle Unlimited subscription, demolish my M&M stash, and write the first part of this blog post.

3:05: Crap, I have to go wake Rowan up. If I don't wake her up right around three, she'll stay up super late tonight. Actually, she usually does that anyway - talks and sings and plays in her crib from when we put her down around 7:30 until 8:30 or even 9:00 - and I have no idea if waking her up at three helps or not, but whatever. I get a cup of milk for her and head upstairs.

3:07: I find her all snuggled up and adorable, and I scoop her into my arms for more snuggles:

We end up cuddling and reading books (Madeline, Daniel Tiger's Halloween, and more frickin' Richard Scarry) for over half an hour before I decide we have to go outside. We're required by the state of Michigan to get out and enjoy the last 70-plus-degree day we'll have until...March, probably.

3:45: Raking leaves in the front yard. I thought I'd have to find ways to entertain Rowan out here, but she's actually entertaining herself. She plays with "her" rake, jumps in leaves, and has her dinosaurs jump in leaves. Pro tip: Don't let your two-year-old throw her beloved dinosaurs into a leaf pile that's exactly the same colors as they are.

There were four dinosaurs hiding in here. I spy two in this pic. It was a near-tragedy.

Filled up the entire compost bin!

4:25: All the leaves in the front yard (and part of our elderly neighbor's front yard) are in the compost bin, so we head to the park. Rowan decides to ride her motorcycle, and I let her, even though I know she's going to want her bike - not her motorcycle - as soon as we have to leave the park. Ugh.

4:50: Yep. Meltdown when it's time to leave. I kinda hate going to the park right before dinner, because we're pretty much guaranteed a meltdown of some variety when it's time to go, thanks to hunger. She has a pretty fancy tantrum today, crying the entire way home and even wanting me to carry her (and her motorcycle). Good times.

5:00: As usual, I haven't put two seconds of thought into what's for dinner tonight, so I pull two boxes out of the freezer and have Rowan choose between a vegetarian "Chik'N" cutlet and a veggie burger. She chooses the cutlet, and I pop it in the microwave. Usually I'll bake it, but cranky, hungry toddler = microwave. (...I put the cutlet in the microwave. Not the toddler.) While it's being zapped, we sit down to take our shoes off, and she gets pissed because I take one of her shoes off (at her request, but that is clearly moot). While she cries for me to put it back on so she can take it off herself, I take a few deep breaths so I don't lose my shit. All of a sudden, I notice she's taking slow, deep breaths, too. Had I suggested she take a deep breath, she would've gone all Exorcist on me, but just modeling it for her - accident though it is - seems to help.

5:04: Rowan has a fun habit of finding the most fascinating and independent game EVER right before dinner starts, like all the time. Tonight it's a puzzle. She keeps lifting a piece off and calling "Peek-a-boo!" to the horse underneath, and then cracking up. Her dinner has to cool anyway, so I let her hang out for a bit.

5:15: Oops. Got lost on Facebook a little longer than I meant to. Rowan climbs into her high chair and dives into the cutlet, along with some green pepper slices and blueberries. And ketchup and mustard, of course. I wash the lunch dishes while she eats.

5:45: J.J. arrives home just as I finish cleaning up Rowan and her high chair. Rowie plays with her dinosaurs while J.J. changes clothes and I round up a load of laundry.

6:00: Take-out food is not in our budget these days, but I have a mad hankering for some Thai food. I make a No Thai run while J.J. and Rowan head out for their nightly walk. Since it's dark during their walks now, J.J. started strapping some headlamps to Rowan, which she thinks is the coolest thing ever to happen in the world. And it pretty much is.

6:25: I'm back home, with food. I shovel potato curry into my mouth while uploading photos and videos from today for this post. Our Internet is being even more of a bitch than usual (DIE FOREVER COMCAST), so my YouTube uploads aren't working right. I troubleshoot and then edit photos until...

7:05: J.J. and Rowan come inside. They head right upstairs for bath time. I switch the laundry from the washer to the dryer, grab a small cup of milk for Rowan, and relieve J.J. so he can take a little breather while I bathe Rowan.

7:30: With her pajamas on and hair brushed, Rowan settles into J.J.'s lap in her rocking chair, and we read stories together while she drinks her milk. Three books tonight, and then she cries for the Richard Scarry book, but I've already hidden it downstairs and I just cannot. She gets over it, thankfully, and then we brush teeth, zip her in her sleep sack, and sing a couple songs with the lights off.

7:45: I'm downstairs typing up the rest of this blog post while J.J. sings a few more special Daddy-Rowie songs. Then he puts her in her crib and comes downstairs to eat his No Thai. Rowan is silent...

8:24: ...until right this second. There was a thud a minute ago, and now she's whining about something. Ugh, something about a ba-ba. Let me go see.

8:27: Yellow Ba-Ba made a break for it, apparently. I tucked Rowan back in with her three ba-bas and seventy-two stuffed friends, and now I'm back downstairs. Going to fire up some more Walking Dead (almost done with Season 3!) and hope I don't hear from her again tonight.

8:29: Dammit! The dryer just buzzed. Down to get the clothes.

9:00: Somehow I got lost in folding clothes, editing this post, and half-watching Grey's Anatomy. FOCUS, Cathy. Walking Dead, now.

Rest of night: I'm going to post this now and cross my fingers that the rest of the night goes as follows: one episode of Walking Dead, into bed by ten, a sleeping baby until at least seven tomorrow morning. 

Wish me luck.

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