Yesterday morning started out bright enough. Connor and I hung out reading books, he ate a nice big bowl of oatmeal before his nanny arrived, and was having a fun time sorting through the very nice drawer of useless kitchen tools to see what he needed to capture for his own use. Then he dropped a glass bottle which naturally busted into a million pieces on the floor. But then things turned around. Once his nanny arrived, we played a game of slam dunk three balls at once which had Connor laughing and allowed me to leave the house without a bunch of grief. For the record, Little Man lets Ed leave the house four days a week with no grief, but I think it's just so on my one late day, he can really pile on all his tricks.
And then the crap part really started. First, I left the house about 2 minutes too late, because just as I got to the corner, my bus passed by me. Damn. Now I had to ride my bike to the subway. Then, when I got to work, I realized that my teeny-tiny pearl bracelet - the one my friend Kellee had specially made for me in China to fit my freakishly small wrists, the one bracelet I can wear - fell off my wrist somewhere between my home and office. Ed and Connor met me for dinner at a restaurant near my midwife's office, and Ed informed me that on the drive over, Connor had seen a McDonalds, gotten all excited and shrieked "There's Mommy's letter!!". I hate McDonalds. I often tell people that because there aren't a ton of things Connor can do to really get under my skin, he'll probably rebel by bringing a giant box of McDonalds fries home when he's a teenager, slamming them on the dinner table, and informing me that he's having McDonalds for dinner. That, or he'll join the Army.
Next, we went to my 36 week appointment with my midwife only to find out that Helen is still lying sideways. No surprise, but sideways babies are not candidates for home birth. The only bright spot to this news is that she hasn't dropped anything down into my pelvis, so she's still a turnable baby, which means I'll be going to the hospital for an external version whenever the only doctor in the area who performs these maneuvers can squeeze me in and thinks it's appropriate. When we got home from the appointment, Connor decided he was not going to bed, so Ed and I spent from 8:30 (bedtime) to about 9:30 putting Connor back in his bed. But, I think Connor's stomach might have been bothering him because the last time he got out of bed, he asked "Does Connor need to flush his poopies?" which, in our neverending game of Jeopardy! is Connor's way of saying he just took a dump. I posited that this might have been the reason he was having trouble sleeping and he agreed. Finally, ater I settled him in bed for the millionth time, it stuck. But only until 3:40 when he came into my room to play helicopter on my bed. This is when Connor asks in a very pitiful voice "Does Connor need to lay next to Mommy and sleep?" and climbs up into bed and makes himself comfortable. He pretends that he's going to sleep, until just the point when I fall asleep and then he starts moving around like a helicopter. This happened at 4:10. I looked at him and said "This isn't working, Connor. You need to go back to your bed." And man, I was tough as nails. I plopped him across the hall in his bed and even when he asked me to lay with him for just a few minutes, I told him I was tired and needed sleep, so I was going to my own bed. I told him he could come get me when the wake-up light came on. Miraculously, he stayed in bed until said lighting.
Surely today will be better. And if you read this far, send all your baby turning mojo my way, because I do not want to end up in the hospital with a c-section.