See, I got Sleep, with a capitol 'S'. Any night that includes a chunk of sleep greater than 3 and 1/2 hours is considered a good night. If a good night includes *2* chunks of sleep greater than 3 and 1/2 hours, it will be followed by a good morning. Which was what I was having. Note use of past tense...
Many things were contributing to the good morning-ness, beyond even the sleep. I'd had the presence of mind/time/energy to switch my wallet and phone from my weekend diaper bag to my weekday working drone purse (how terribly symbolic), so I wasn't going to get 1/2 way to work and realize I would be foraging for leftover conference room food for lunch and/or getting arrested for driving without a license.
I'd also prewashed a bottle so I'd have SOMEthing to leave with the sitter to feed the Infant from - so she'd get to eat too. I'd managed to get showered, find underwear AND a bra I can wear, as well as an outfit I don't feel totally schumpy in. Mommy tummy is restricting my fashion options rather severely at the moment. That and being 4 years behind in laundry.
Speaking of laundry, I managed to get a load in without dripping detergent on myself or having to rewash a load from 4 days ago that had gone all stank. And, while in the basement, cleaned the kitty boxes *before* the inevitable editorial poop appeared on a landing or hall corner. All this and I was only running 30 minutes late. Truly a great morning.
And then......
The Sitter-In-Law had the Infant in arms feeding her a bottle - I was in full sherpa mode: boob pump, purse and computer bag all dangling off of me. I was just reaching for my lunch, the last step on the 'exit stage right' routine when..... YOOOOOOORK! The Infant represented apparently the entire 3 oz of formula she had just schlorped down. And, drama queen that she was, it went everywhere, including out of her nose. She was righteously offended. The expression while pitiful, was somewhat amusing - a mixture of 'oh, seriously, ew!' and 'what the f did I do to deserve THAT?!'. I would be lying if I didn't admit to freezing, with my hand on my lean cuisine lunch, and seriously debate just bolting. But one look at that confused and indignant little babyface and mommy guilt won. Plus I *like* my Sitter-In-Law. So I backed away from the the frozen pizza, de-sherp-ed and dove into decontamination. Since it was morning and the happy Infant side was in place vs. the later hours Sybil who shows up, she took it all with relatively good humor. Meaning her screams didn't actually shatter glass, and it only took 7 minutes to peal her off the ceiling after her onesie was removed.
Once the Infant was stripped and the worst of her hurl was hosed off of her, the Sitter-In-Law was kind enough to take over for the last of the dry down and redressing and I made a bolt for the door, now at least 45 minutes late. As I piled all my electronically laden saddlebags back on, I heard the MOST adorable coos and giggles from upstairs. Those sweet little sounds kept me smiling nearly 1/2 way to work. Which is when I realized I'd left my lunch at home. Le sigh.
Happy Monday to one and all!
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