The Mommy Marathon

I look at the clock, it's 4:30. I lay her down after a long day of avoiding naps. Perfect...a little time for myself! I excitedly log on and get lost in blog world, reading the thoughts of others, my favorite past time. In the back of my mind I know I should be taking advantage of this peace to get ready for the night ahead. I ignore the thought, "I don't have to leave until 6:15. I've got plenty of time... just as long as she doesn't wake up."

5:00... I reluctantly shut the lid to my pink laptop and walk to the closet to choose my outfit for the night. I choose black. (I have learned in the last three months that spit-up doesn't show up as much on a darker color.) Next, I begin my make-up and this excites me a little because I haven't worn any since Saturday. But then I hear it... echoing through the house, her faint cry informing me that her nap is over. She only slept 30 minutes and I hope, a little too optimistically, that if I put her passy back in and pat her tummy she will fall asleep again. I literally run through the house and into her room and do both respectively. I realize the "mini-makeover" I have scheduled with myself will now be canceled.

5:05...I hear her crying again; however, this time it might be considered screaming. Running back into her pink room, I peer into the crib and see her rubbing her tired eyes. She sees me and give me a gummy grin. I can't resist, I pick her up and rock her back and forth a little. She coos and I lay her down to change her diaper. We play the "making silly faces" game for a second and we both smile. I carry her to my room and open up the blinds. Maybe she will want to soak up some sun laying on my big bed while I finish the make-up I never really started?

5:20...I am back at the mirror and she is on the bed kicking and smiling. (This lasts about 30 seconds.) The next 15 minutes of our lives are spent like this:

Put her passy in, I do my powder....she spits the passy out and screams. I run in the room put it back in and give her a smile. She is content. I run in the bathroom slap on some blush. Screaming again. I run back in and tell her in a sugary sweet voice, "Baby, I love you so much and I really want to hold you all the time, I do, but Mama would actually like to wear make-up tonight." Passy in. Eyeshadow on one eye. Passy out. I run in and give kisses on her tummy. Passy in. Eyeshadow on the other eye, it is a little bit uneven, but it will do. Passy out. I rush back in, "Don't worry, Mama is here." I pick her up.

5:40ish...I dress her.

5:41...Spit up on that outfit. We find a new one, put it on and I quickly find a matching bib this time.

5:50...I feed her. I hold the bottle with my chin while putting on her shoes with my one free hand. One shoe won't fit and I can't seem to figure it out. I leave it off for a second, burp her, and put her in her swing. I spot the "too small" shoe on the floor and notice a small wad of tissue paper, from when they were brand new, still stuck in the toe. I could have sworn that she had worn these shoes before?? I take it out, throw it on the ground, and put it on her chubby foot.

6:10...Only 5 more minutes and I still need to fix my hair and pack her bag. I sprint back to my bathroom. She begins to whimper. I know the content baby I left in the swing won't be there for long. I hurriedly stick my hair up in a half pony tail and straighten a few pieces in the back. I hear her whimper turn to a wail. I take a second glance and realized that I forgot my mascara. I grab it and slap it on in under a minute.

6:15...We should be walking out the door. I run over to tell her, "Mommy is going to pack your bag and then I promise we are leaving and you get to ride in the car!" She returns my promise with a quivering lower lip. I run to the kitchen get her bottles ready, run to her bedroom grab extra burp clothes, and run to find the camera.

6:20ish...I load her in the car and run back in the house to grab her stroller. I fold it up and put it into the trunk of my Mustang, which is a job all in itself! Finally, I grab her bag and my purse, lock up, and head out.

6:30...Driving away and only 15 minutes late, not too bad. I begin to have this gnawing feeling like I forgot something. At the stop sign I search my purse. No cell phone. "What if Daddy tries to call?" I say out loud. I turn around with hesitation, take the house key off the keyring so I can leave the car running, and run into the house to search for my phone.

6:43... Back in the car, phone in hand, and headed down the road. Almost 30 minutes late. I look back and my princess is sleeping. I roll my eyes and smile. I take a drink of my now lukewarm Diet Dr. Pepper and, oddly, I feel a sense of accomplishment.

I feel like I just ran a marathon in heels, with a baby on my hip.