Today I had to go to the birth recorder's office because our insurance for some reason needs proof of a live birth to fill Baby B's prescriptions. With J Myster, we had a 90 day window to add him to insurance. With this insurance plan, even though it states in their handbook they give you 90 days to add a new child to insurance, they are giving us the run around and now we have to bill our insurance for his appointments and prescriptions. All around its been a big pain in the ass.
So anyway, of course I start getting the kids ready at around 8:30 to leave the house. J uses the potty. He's now wearing underwear during the day, but is still in diapers during outings and while sleeping. So after being as picky as a teenage girl about his clothing we finally get him dressed in enough time for Baby B to be colicky. He has eaten, but he is tired and wants to be held. I try getting him in my moby wrap and bouncing him around the house and he's not having it...he is screaming and getting blue in the face and when that happens, the only way to calm him is either Hunky Hubs rocks him (hunky Hubs is at work) or slap him on a boob. That works and about 10 minutes later I think I can calmly burp him and put him in his car seat, when he vomits all over the outfit I just put on.
Now I have to change, which means J myster also has to change...He now hates Curious George and has to wear his Po the Panda shirt, while Baby B continues screaming his head off. I run upstairs change, put Baby B in his car seat anyway, and proceed to swing him in the car seat. It calms him until I put the car seat down. I'm yelling at J to get socks and shoes on but he's too distracted with a cartoon. So I turn the cartoon off to get a move on it and J myster throws the mother of all tantrums because Micky Mouse Clubhouse was on and he wanted to watch it. So now I have two kids screaming and I'm thinking..."abort mission abort mission" and just go put your sweats back on and call it a day.
Now this isn't the first time I've been out with a colicky baby, the first time was Monday when I took J Myster to open Gym so he could see his pal Julian and I was filling out paperwork for J to play while Baby B was screaming. For twenty minutes Baby B screamed and all I could think was, I'm just gonna have to peel J Myster away from the fun and go home....but this was my chance to get out of the house, spend some time with some other adults while getting some pent up energy out of J Myster...but that is a blog post for another day and I digress.
Something comes over me and I tell myself I have to get this done!! No putting this stuff off another day. I need his birth certificate! So I run and start the car, put baby B in the car, peel J up off the floor from his puddle of tears put him in the car seat while he's kicking and screaming at me, but now he needs juice. So I run back in the house and make a juice cup for him. As soon as I pull out of the garage, I realize I need Baby B's social security card...I pull back in the garage. I run upstairs and grab it. Baby B who was calm with a pacifier is now screaming his head off again. Oh well, hopefully he'll calm down when the car starts moving again. He does. We finally get to the birth recorders office and I am contemplating, do I put baby B in my moby wrap and take him in that way, or use a stroller. Baby B is finally asleep, so I dig the stroller out, put him in it, get J out of his side of the SUV and we head inside and make it up the the birth recorders office that closed 1 minute before I got there! 1 minute at 11am!! Eleven am!!
The lady said, "I'm sorry we just closed, you'll have to come back".
I look at her and say, "What? Its 11 am, why?"
"We close every day for two hours at lunch. You can come back at 1pm."
I, at that moment wanted to lay into her explaining how hard it was to get here, but I knew it was futile and turned around and walked back out of the office. Braidy at that point starts screaming again...
Doing the same thing in two hours, it would take me two hours to get going again. There is no way I can come back in two hours...I either head home or off to run another errand. As soon as I figure out if Baby B will calm himself down if the vehicle is moving I decide to head to target. Hunky Hubs' belt broke last night and I told him I'd get him a new one. I chose target because I knew I could get myself a nice large gingerbread latte to help make my morning go a little better. We of course get there and when the car stops moving Braidy starts screaming. Thankfully I had a bottle of pumped milk with me, so after I ordered my Starbucks we sat down to feed him and things got a little better for the next half hour. I bought Hunky Hubs a belt but I also discover Hanes makes boxer briefs for women and I picked myself up a package. Funny how some coffee and some new underwear can help make your day better when you are a mom.
We get home and the calmness turns into insanity again when J Myster decideds to take care of his diaper issues himself. He goes upstairs to use the potty, but doesn't quite make it. In the process of trying to get his diaper off to sit on the potty he gets poop everywhere...all over the bathroom. Then I hear a frightened "Mama please help me" coming from upstairs at the same time Baby B starts his screaming session again. I take him with me but find J myster with his diaper off, his pants around his ankles and poop hanging from him..
on the floor...
...on his hands.... on the toilet seat... on his shirt and everywhere else...
I once again have to put screaming Baby B down somewhere to clean up this mess! I put baby B in the swing...sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't and I grab the wet wipes and start running a tub of water....the only way out of the situation I thought was a bath. I'm wiping poop up off of J and the floor and walls and get him in the tub. I Finally get to blue in the face baby B to nurse him and sit in the hallway watching J myster play in the tub while almost melting into a puddle of tears and laughter while texting my husband the chaos of what the day had become. But there I was sitting in a tank top, with my new underwear on drinking my gingerbread latte and nursing baby B while J Myster took a bath and life once again returned to a manageable chaos.
Whoever said motherhood was cake, clearly had hired help or very predictable children.
































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