the t-shirt

Just so you know, I am working on that cloth diapering post, but, as I've started it about 75,432 different times, I'm just not sure how I want it to land. Softly, I suppose.

But in the meantime....

the "shirt"

It must have been the shirt. Or something. I'm really not sure what it was and I could definitely call out teething to be the culprit, because, until all 20 something of Mia's baby teeth are in, won't she always be teething? But lo & behold, today I put her in "My Uncle is My Hero" t-shirt, lovingly given to her by her Uncle Nate at Christmas. Tomorrow's her Uncle Luke's birthday, and the weather is a bit warmer today than it has been of late, so I thought a t-shirt would suffice.

But the girl won't nap. Well, she napped pretty easily this morning, falling asleep in my arms still desperately sucking on an empty bottle. I even placed her in the crib and her suction was so strong that the bottle was sticking 90° straight up in the air. Yet this afternoon was a different story, and while it's frustrating, there comes a point where you just have to brush your shoulders off.

Since she woke up from her AM nap around 10:30, I figured by 1:30 she'd probably be tired for her PM nap. Except that at 2:27pm she was still awake in her crib and not happy.

See? Not happy. Blurry picture because mommy took it so quickly walking into my room.

Oh wait, now I'm okay. I see you are taking a picture of me, so that must mean it's party-time and I'm down with that. I wasn't crying. No, not me. I'm cool. Brushing my shoulders off as we speak.

Plan B: Drive around until she falls asleep. Around 3:17pm I no longer hear her playing with her pacifier in her carseat on I-75, and I turn around to see her head's tilted to the side and she's sleeping. Man, she looks almost perfect, like an angel. I head on home and deliberate if I should try the carseat-to-crib transfer that Greg demonstrated so ably yesterday. As I set her carseat in her room with her still asleep in it, I breathe a sigh of relief that she is finally asleep and maybe now I'll get some "me-time". A few minutes later I wander into her room, check on her and consider just how I'd transfer her to her crib if I were to. She must have heard the voices in my head because her eyes flickered open, and then realized I was staring at her. Oops. I closed the door, thinking maybe she's so tired she'll go back to sleep.

Waaaaaaah.

Guess not. So, she got a 20-25 minute nap, which is better than nothing, but now my gas light is on empty and I've lost my motivation to make a more involved dinner (anything that requires skinning potatoes, boiling them & then mashing is involved in my book).

So, why would the shirt be the culprit? Because you see, my older brothers loved to taunt & tease me as wee little lass so I wouldn't be so shocked to find out that that one of them found a way to torture me via my infant child now, even if it meant haunting her t-shirt resulting in wakeful, restless afternoons for the both of us. Bros, could you have done such a thing??

Yes, for you, I have added the tag "indignation" to this post. Luke, happy birthday tomorrow, and Nate, while you may be Mia's hero, next time you see her, you are on diaper duty. Full-time. Booyah.

The views expressed on this blog may at times be exaggerated for the sake of comic relief and so that the writer can focus on something other than the fact that she spent 2.5 hrs trying to get her little one to sleep this afternoon with barely any respite. And she typed this out so she could use words like "respite," "lass," and "indignation." Thank you for reading.