Alone, all alone

Monday, my dear sweet husband returned to work. Two hours away. Overnight. And left me alone with the two children.

To say I was apprehensive was putting it a little mildly. I knew in my head I could -- had -- to do it. But I was still scared. How would I ever get everyone up and fed and out of the house? How would I keep Jack from destroying things while I was chained to the couch, feeding Emmie? How would I find time to surf the Internet for celebrity gossip for God's sake? We have to have some priorities here.

I am proud to report that things went better than I expected. Although when you keep your expectations ridiculously low, you really can't have things go badly now can you?

Josh kissed Emmie and I goodbye at the ungodly hour of 7 a.m. and Jack woke me up again around 8:30. Of course Emmie woke up right then and needed a boob, so he had to wait in his crib for a few minutes. But I somehow got him up and fed and got her up and fed and then I had to take a shower myself, which I did with the help of a video! No, not a how-to video. A Spanish language video for Jack. He watched that and didn't move a muscle and I put Emmie in the swing upstairs and somehow got myself and her ready. Then I got Mr. Jackson dressed and we were all out the door and at his music class right on time. Score one for Mommy!

Since we were already out, I decided to return something to Target and then run to Babies R Us. A little aggressive for our first day alone, you might be thinking. But I had to do it sometime, so I forged ahead.

Thinking we would only be a second in Target at customer service, I did not grab a cart. It was two feet from the entrance and there was a nice bench for Jack to sit on. But of course he did not want to sit. He wanted to stand in front of the sliding doors and make them open and shut. And open and shut. And FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP MAKING THE DOOR OPEN AND SHUT AND HOLD MOMMY'S HAND. Which prompted him to become a noodle and fall writhing to the floor. A woman and her adult daughter actually laughed at me. Thanks, I needed that. I waited for him to get a handle on himself and tried to pretend like I didn't care and wasn't paying attention and he did eventually get up and walk out to the car.

At Babies R Us, I learned my lesson and took a cart. After wandering around for a few minutes, Emmie notified me that she needed to eat. She did not, alas, send a registered letter. Instead she shrieked at the top of her lungs. So I wheeled them over to the mother's room so I could feed her. Jack thought the mother's room was awesome because there were two changing tables with stacks of diapers he could take down and throw at me. Thanks, buddy! But I don't need them right now.

After bribing him away from the non-babyproofed electrical outlet with a bag of Cheerios, I had a some relative peace. Of course said Cheerios were falling on the floor with alarming frequency, so he just decided to eat them off the floor. Since I was playing zone defense, I decided to just let him be. A little dirt and road salt and dust never hurt anyone did it?

After feeding Emmie and finally shopping and checking out, it was time to head home for lunch and a much-needed nap. For everyone. But first, I had to get them in the car. I dropped Emmie's seat into the base on the driver's side and came around to put Jack in his seat. Because it was 90,000 degrees below zero wind chill, I lifted him into the car to expedite the process. Which caused "Toddler Freakout 2008: Now With More Cowbell" to ensue. He's arching his back and sliding out of his car seat and sobbing big fat tears and I am trying to shove him back up and get the straps secured, but of course I am standing outside in the freezing cold and getting increasingly more pissed. I actually told my toddler, "I am NEVER taking you ANYWHERE again. Get in your seat NOW!" Which you know, worked really well. Not.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with a playdate with two friends and dinner prep, the eating of dinner and bathtime and then just as I thought it would quiet down, Emmie decided she was going to be awake with Mommy for a few hours. Which was awesome, because we never really get to spend quality one-on-one time with her when Jack is playing with us. But also meant I had to eat my dinner with a plate perched above her head while she was eating.

It was finally bedtime for Mommy and just when I thought things were calm, Emmie puked all over me, herself and my bed. All over the sheets, the down feather bed, my pajamas and her pajamas. That would be the second night in row, for those scoring at home, that I have been puked upon by my infant. So I change her, change myself, strip the whole bed, throw the feather bed in the hallway to dry, start laundry and finally fall back into bed -- a hard uncomfortable bed sans feathers -- at midnight.

And that my friends, sums up the first day of Parenting v2.0.

But here was the face I was looking at. How can you be mad about puke with this face?