I don’t know if it was the time change that did it to me, but I was wiped out this morning. I’ve been a crankypants all day long. Part of it may have something to do with the fact that Jude obviously did not pay attention to the memo about time change. This is unfortunate for all parties involved.
At 10am, we met at a friend’s house for a church playgroup. This is usually pretty fun; however, Jude is one of the oldest of all of the babies, and as such, he is the most mobile. Meaning, all I did during playgroup was chase him. Every other baby was placidly lying on the floor, chewing their feet or waving their hands in the air, occasionally screeching.
Then there was my child. Tearing off like a bolt, checking out every nook and cranny over and over. The funny thing was, I could totally recognize the look on the other mothers’ faces because it was the exact same expression I had at their stage when I saw mothers of toddlers: complete and abject horror/fear.
I should be so skinny from all of the chasing I do.
You should see the living room now, as I sit here, typing. The DVDs are strewn all over the floor (guess who figured out how to open cabinet doors?), there’s crumbs EVERYWHERE (he found a granola bar in my purse), and toys and laundry are a commonplace occurrence. Earlier today, I turned around as i was getting ready in the bathroom, and he had found out how to open the under-sink cabinet, and had removed several cleaning products. UGH.
The thing is, despite the semi-controlled chaos, I know that someday this will all be over, and I will desperately miss it. This is only a season. The little baby that laid so sweetly in his little bassinet has now turned into a joyous moving creature. And someday he will be in school all day and there will be no more sippy cups or diapers to change. I am trying to remember to enjoy every single stage because it won’t be long before we have moved on to another.
I will say that I won’t miss picking up a thrown-down sippy cup eighteen billion times a day, though.