Back to Reality, Oop! There Goes Gravity...

So I've been doing well with this whole mommy thing. Yes, there were the (insert "H" word here) and there is the fact that sometimes Marcus sleeps when you expect him to and sometimes he doesn't, but I've been getting out, running errands, seeing friends, and generally keeping busy. I thought it wouldn't be long before I'm actually planning and preparing meals and managing the household and several other SuperMom things. But alas...

Last night, Chris took me out for an adults-only, just-us evening while my blessed (and if she keeps this up, I'm nominating her for sainthood) mother-in-law watched the rugrats. We left with Athena bawling her eyes out and Marcus only tentatively asleep in his swing. I felt horribly guilty, but not guilty enough to turn back.

Our evening was lovely and included good food and wine. We talked and laughed and used profanity freely without worry of a two-year-old parroting it back to us. We ate without wondering if our toddler would chew or spit out her food (or both). We enjoyed all of our own food without someone much shorter and cuter than us reaching over to our plates and demanding, "Some?!" And we conversed without ever raising our voices at each other, neither from anger or from trying to be heard over the increasingly loud shrieks of the harpie we call our daughter.

And we even got to enjoy some quiet time upon arriving home. Everyone was asleep and still. Until about an hour after we returned...

When Marcus awoke, it was clear that he was VERY stuffy. I had to suction out his nose with an implement we call "The Mucous Molester" because he can't blow his tiny nose himself. This instrument looks a lot like the bulb of a turkey baster, and the little turkey baster part is short and narrow enough to just fit into his nostril. You literally suction out the snot. It's one of the more glamorous parts of being a parent, trust me. At first you feel very cruel doing it, but then the relief it brings him is so worth it, you want to do it all the time. Granted, HE doesn't want you to do it all the time, but it's tempting.

Anyway, his stuffiness (at least I assume that's what it was) made him fratchy all night, and I got very little sleep. This morning, I had a 9am dentist appointment, so I took Athena to school and headed over for my once-a-quarter torture. (I go so often because I have a family history of gum disease and I would like to keep my teeth, thank you very much). Chris watched Marcus, but didn't expect my appointment to take an hour (Does anyone get out of the dentist faster than an hour? Nevermind, if I know that about you, I will then have to hate you.), so he got jumpy to get into work. He decided to meet me at a shopping center to do the great baby trade so he could get to work even faster.

I immediately assumed that it was because Marcus was being difficult, as I have really never known Chris to be anxious to get to work. In fact, at first I thought perhaps someone at work had died or had gone postal to make him want to go in so badly. But when he handed me our bundle of joy, he said Marcus had been wonderful and he just needed to get in and get things done. I can sympathize with that, so Marcus and I headed to Old Navy to kill time. His sister needs summer clothes anyway.

In the parking lot, Marcus made it clear he was hungry, so I nursed him in the front seat of the car. I've done this millions of times, so it went well and I was careful to use strategically placed burp cloths as my son has come by the Superhero nickname "The Dribbler" quite honestly. All was well, and in 15 minutes, he was in the front pack and we were inside shopping.

15 minutes later, we were out, and I found myself with a half hour to kill with a wide-awake baby before I met a group of my sorority sisters for lunch. I considered Target, and I considered BJ's Warehouse, but Marcus seemed hungry again, so instead, I found a secluded parking space and nursed again. This took me up to about 10 after 11 (20 minutes before my lunch date) and I was considering what to do to kill 20 minutes when I realized my strategic placement of burp cloths had NOT worked this time, and a great deal of the front of my shirt and my shorts were covered in milk. I wondered briefly if he actually ate ANY of the milk or if he just sprayed me with it while I wasn't paying attention.

Now, I haven't seen any of these women that were to be at the lunch in at least 15 years, and some I had never met. It was a meeting of the alumni club, which I keep meaning to participate in and keep not participating. There was NO WAY I was going into The Olive Garden looking like I had run through a sprinkler with eyes that had bags large enough under them that I would have been charged the oversize surcharge had I been trying to board a plane. So I sighed and bailed.

Upon returning home, Marcus didn't really want to sleep, but I forced him as I really DID want to sleep. We napped for about an hour, and he woke me up by butting his head against my chest like a demented soccer player. (This means "I'm hungry. Feed me you cruel wench!") He ate and dozed off, and now I can't sleep. *sigh*

The good news is, his sniffles seem to be better. I know how he got them, as just the other day, Athena was standing over him and coughing right in his face as if to say, "Here are my germs. I am sharing them with you because sharing is the right thing to do. It means I love you." Thanks, kid.