6:15 am: Hear Lorelei starting to wake up. Go into her room, excited to see my daughter on Mother’s Day. “Good Morning, Peanut!” I say. Lorelei looks past me, over my shoulder, and asks, hopefully, “Daddy?” (Daddy does successfully prompt Lorelei to give me an enthusiastic “Happy Mother’s Day!” when he arrives upstairs.)
7:30 am: I do two sinkfuls of dishes while Lorelei and Daddy play with the contents of the utility box (Eric had started to do the dishes, but I take over upon being hit by one of those sudden pregnancy-driven waves of hunger; I’m already in that vicinity anyway after scarfing down my egg).
We spend a few minutes peeling those sticky little felt chair circles off of Lorelei’s PJs and repeatedly telling her – I don’t think she believes us – that the stud finder does not in fact “open,” even upon repeated request.
8:47 am: I head to the food store, as our only lunch options for Lorelei are a shriveled lime and a quarter box of store-brand stuffing mix left over from Thanksgiving. I notice the number of children there is markedly lower than usual, though there are several moms blissfully lingering over their carts, reluctant to return to their own stud-finder-obsessed offspring.
9:15 am: We spot an adorable baby bunny outside in our yard. Lorelei, still clad in what we’ve been calling her “striped hippie PJs,” trots outside to take a look. Eric asks her what the bunny is eating. “Lollipops!” she announces.
9:20 am: Eric and I get Lorelei dressed for the day, a task made more difficult recently by the fact that she likes to flop around like a mackerel on the changing table. We defer putting on her socks until we get downstairs. Eric heads into the shower.
9:21 am: A pungent stench begins to emanate from the diaper we finished putting on a mere 30 seconds ago. “Did you poop?” I ask Lorelei, who is busily pulling pots and pans out of the kitchen cabinet to prep for some play cooking time. “Yeah!” she says, delighted with herself.
9:22 am: Lorelei and I return to the changing table. Her best, most copious pooping is normally done at daycare, but on this particular occasion she has outdone herself. I haven’t seen a diaper this explosively messy since the days of breast milk.
9:22 am: I discover that we are out of diaper wipes.
10:30 am: Lorelei is sitting on Daddy’s lap, watching Elmo videos on the iPad. I happen to look down at her still-sockless feet. Her toenails are sharp and curved, like talons (with the exception of a few nails that have already gotten a good start on growing back into her toes).
10:31 am – 10:34 am: Much screaming as Mommy successfully clips about 6.5 of Lorelei’s snaggly toenails before giving up.
11:15 am: Massive poop #2. Eric is not able to hide in the shower this time around.
11:30 am: The three of us are sitting down to lunch when I notice that Brodie is outside on the porch, enthusiastically licking the bloody remains of a headless mouse. I summon Daddy, aka Chief Household Rodent Removal Expert. Eric disposes of the mouse while I reassure Lorelei (several times, as there is no other type of reassurance with an almost-2-year-old) that “Brodie no eat the bunny.”
11:37 am: Lorelei decides to set aside her spoon and chug the remains of her bowl of yogurt. It goes about as well as you might expect.
11:45 am: We wipe the yogurt off Lorelei’s shirt, forehead, high chair, and hair. She, blessedly, goes down for a solid nap.
1:45 pm: Lorelei is now up from her nap, minus one of her ponytails. We get in the car to go see our moms (about an hour’s drive).
1:46 pm: Lorelei announces that she is “all done” with the car and demands “uppies.” We try to explain the various state laws prohibiting uppies in the car.
2:30 pm: Mommy clumsily slithers her 5.5-months-pregnant self into the backseat to try to calm Lorelei down. Lorelei, appalled, points at the front seat and demands, “Mommy, you go back there.”
2:31 pm: Mommy attempts to return to the front seat and gets stuck.
2:32 pm: Lorelei (increasingly agitated and still pointing): “Mommy back there!”
2:33 pm: Mommy gives it the old college try, accidentally elbows Daddy in the back of the head, and coughs while halfway between the front and back seats. Pees her pants a bit, as she’s been known to do these days. Pregnancy: It’s a glamorous time.
2:34 pm: Mommy finally arrives back in the front seat, damp and defeated. Lorelei is silent (and, I think, highly amused at Mommy’s antics) for the rest of the trip.
2:35 pm: Eric attempts to make me feel better. “Maybe she just wants the back seat to herself. Lorelei, would you want Daddy to come back there with you?” Lorelei considers this for about half a second before enthusiastically concluding, “Yeah!”
2:50 pm – 5:15 pm: Lorelei enjoys quality time with both sets of grandparents. Our attempts to explain that “Nonnie is Mommy’s Mommy and Nana is Daddy’s Mommy” fly completely over her head, though everyone gets nice “I love you”s from Lorelei upon our departure.
6:15 pm: Back in the car on the way home. “I love you, Lorelei,” Eric says. “I love…cheese!” Lorelei replies.
6:30 pm: We arrive back at our house and notice that our next-door neighbors have a lot of extended family over; everyone’s enjoying the nice day in the front yard. Mommy quickly ducks inside to change her pee-dampened pants before coming back outside to socialize.
6:45 pm: Lorelei excitedly runs into the house, startling Brodie, and closets herself in the bathroom.
6:46 pm: Mommy and Daddy discover massive poop #3. Still out of diaper wipes. This round, in an interesting twist, Lorelei plunges her left hand down into her nether regions to check things out and comes up with a bit of poop on her finger – which momentarily throws her but does not, alas, deter her from almost immediately sticking her thumb in her mouth.
6:47 pm – 7:15 pm: Lorelei experiences a disjointed, out-of-order bedtime routine that features extensive hand sterilization and washing, a new diaper, PJs before dinner, no tubby, and a main course of a hot dog and a half, followed by storytime and tooth brushing.
7:15 pm: Lorelei goes down for the night. Daddy pours himself a large martini.
Mommy reflects that, except for peeing on herself – ironically, a new little person will probably be doing that for her this time next year – it was a pretty great Mother’s Day, all things considered. Love you, Peanut.
