In case you were wondering, babies sweat from their heads. I know this because Genny was just screaming in her crib with her hair completely drenched. Nick called the nurse line, but it’s okay, she’s just a hot, sweaty and cranky baby.
And I’m just a hot, sweaty and cranky mommy.
Today was supposed to be a relax day, but it turned into a workday. We went to Nick’s Cousin Bob’s and I decided I would take our two humungous dirty laundry bags. Well, it turns out Bob keeps the dryer on the delicate setting so that his pants won’t shrink. I spent about three hours doing laundry.
As the day wore on, Genny became increasingly cranky and feisty. She was crunning (crawl-running) all around Bob’s three-bedroom house. In the spare bedroom, which Bob has now filled with hand-me-down toys, Gen was molesting a giant Pooh Bear by jumping on him and rolling and pushing.
She got to play with her cousin, Anna, who is 15 months old. They really didn't interact much though, except when Genny offered her some cheddar cheese rice cake.
Then I had my mommy on the edge moment while I was folding the still damp laundry in the basement, chasing Genny for the umpteenth time to the unfinished section of the cellar and feeling alone and miserable. Nick came in from working on the minivan and I was just like, “She is driving me insane.” I think there might have been an expletive in there, too. No, actually, I know for sure that there was an expletive in there.
I feel so frustrated with myself when I lose my patience with her. I can just hear everyone who hears me complaining about motherhood whispering that I’m a bad mother. But I’m not! I’m an awesome mother.
Why do I care so much about what other people think about me? What is this image that I think others have of me that I’m so afraid of tarnishing? People probably already think I’m a weirdo and a bad mom, so I should probably just relax and be who I am. A mommy on the edge.