It’s days like this that make a person realize why stay at home parents aren’t paid for what they do.

“And why is that?” you ask.

And I answer: Because, there isn’t enough money IN THE WORLD to make up for all the shit we have to put up with.

It really hasn’t been a bad day in the classical sense of the term.  But, it’s been a DAY.  The sort that you rather hope ends with an alcoholic beverage and perhaps a neckrub sometime before your head hits the pillow and you are able to embrace blessed, blessed oblivion.

Liam had his 2 year old well-check appointment with the pediatrician this morning.  And, amazingly enough, I was able to get myself and the two wee ones out the door with little difficulty.  Huzzah!  Of course, I noticed a shimmy as I drove down the road (we have a slow leak on one of our tires and it needs to be aired up from time to time), plus the van needed gas.  I tend to see 1/4 of a tank as being empty and it was 1/4 of a tank.  But… no time to fill it.

Bah.

The appointment went well enough.  Liam is still our puny runt.  We got a sheet of paper with suggestions for feeding picky eaters.  The doctor approved our giving him pedia-sure and suggested that on the days we didn’t give him that, that he had some sort of multi-vitamin.  And to keep trying to get him to eat fruits and vegetables.  Especially vegetables.

The big thing was his speech.  No big surprise to us, he has a delay.  Harry did too, at the same age, and it hasn’t hurt him much.  Still, we don’t see any reason to turn down speech therapy because it couldn’t possibly hurt and could only help.  However, it would mean more driving around for me (figures we don’t have anyone around here that comes to the home, right?).  I’ll do what I have to do.

I don’t believe that this means he’ll be behind all his life or anything.  I really have no other reason to be concerned.  I know he’s a clever boy.  He just isn’t where his peers are verbally yet.  And hopefully, this will help him get there.  No pressure.  I’m not worried.

After the appointment, we were all starved for lunch.  We headed to the university to eat there, as is the custom.  Lunch was good and I had food that was decidedly unhealthy for me.  It was delicious.  But then it was time to go home.

So many things went wrong from there.  Liam fell asleep in the van, which as you mothers of toddlers know, that just completely fux’s with the whole nap schedule.  Evie screamed in the van at first, before settling down.  She commenced screaming again as soon as we got home.  I carried Liam in, still sleeping, and put him up in his crib.  Back downstairs, I let the dogs out and noticed that Beetoe (I could call her something really, really bad right here and not have a lick of guilt) had torn through a bag of garbage and strewn it everywhere.

I then fetched Evie out of her seat and set her on the changing table.  She had just had a monstrous poop and the clean up was about as much fun as you’d expect.  Meanwhile, I can hear Beetoe losing her shit out on the back step because, “OMG, I’m OUTSIDE.  And it’s above 70 degrees!!!  I’M DYING!!!”  Evie doesn’t settle down as I clean her up, and instead ramps up her displeasure.  My blood pressure starts to do scary things.

I set her in the bouncer seat so I can clean up the mess Beetoe made.  Of course, Evie is still going thermonuclear and Beetoe is now flinging herself uselessly at the sliding door.  Everything gets cleaned up, the dogs get let in and I pick up Evie.  Seems all is right with the world, right?

I settle her down and we go upstairs to lay down.  Which, you know, sorta works for a while.  But Evie starts to get restless and as we STILL have no monitor, I’m reluctant to leave her upstairs unmonitored so I bring her downstairs.  She falls asleep in her bouncer.  I had opened Liam’s bedroom door in the hopes that some of the cool air coming from the a/c unit in our bedroom would waft into his room which gets really hot in the afternoon.

This worked against me because he woke up.  I then made the collossal mistake of handing him his sippy cup.  This only made him mad because he recognized I was putting him off.  I came downstairs and sorted through the clean cloth diapers that came out of the dryer that morning, listening to Liam cry.  I start to think that the door being opened is making him upset.  So what do I do?  I go up and close it.  Which pissed him off again, but then he was already pissed.

Now, he has been crying and sleeping in 5 minute intervals.  It occurs to me that perhaps his leg is bothering him where they gave him his shot.  Perhaps I should have given him some Motrin before laying him down.  Which, you know, I WOULD HAVE, had he not fallen asleep in the van on the way home.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So there you have it.  That’s my day so far.