Today is one of those days.
It feels like I can't get anything done. I want to pull my hair out. I want to cry.
Patrick is ornery. He doesn't want to eat. He wants to eat. He doesn't want to play. He wants to play. He wants to sit. He doesn't want to sit. He wants to swing. He doesn't want to swing. He wants to play in his exersaucer. Oh, no, he doesn't.
He finally fell asleep. I think that's what's been bugging him the whole time. Why doesn't he just fall asleep? Instead, he fights and fights and screams and screams. No tears, just screams. Loud screams.
But it's quiet again.
I think I'll fold laundry.
*I never folded the laundry. It's still in a basket in the kitchen. Instead, I read my favorite magazine, Real Simple, which came in the mail today. Then I relished in the quietness of my home. Patrick woke up after an hour-long nap. As I was changing his diaper, he peed on his face not once but twice and is currently sitting in a onesie, drinking his milk. It's great to see him, drinking down the bottle, his chubdelicious thighs exposed. The day got better afterall.