Man, this is not the way I wanted to end a very busy, fun, and productive weekend.
Tillie is bawling in her room. We’ve rocked. We’ve sung. We’ve had a bottle. We’ve changed a million diapers. She IS exhausted. She WAS asleep.
Until the goddamn dryer buzzer went off right outside her room 20 minutes ago. Which woke her up. Which made her cry and stand up and stick her tiny hand through the crib bars and open her bedroom door. Which made us realize we need to move the crib tomorrow. Which also made us go in and rock her until her drooping eye lids were at their very droopiest before we put her back into the crib and sprinted out of the room. I sang all my best songs.
It didn’t work.
Now she is sobbing. I press my ear to the door and I can tell that she is standing up and crying very, very hard.
The poor little beast.
We wore her out this weekend. She accompanied us to the old house to finish cleaning where she cruised around all of the walls and stairs and railings, giving us heart attacks every three seconds (that house is a death trap for toddlers). Then there were several trips to the park and a play dinner date. Today we went to a 1st birthday party in Oak Park where she walked and crawled amongst the feet of a hundred Indians.
Mistakes were made. We skipped a nap.
And now we pay.
I literally have to sit on my hands and go into another room to keep myself from going in there to see that little tear soaked, red face. We’ve hit a point where I am no longer of help, but just make the situation worse if I get her out of the crib to rock more.
I just hope she doesn’t hold this against me when she is 30.