Pride Comes Before the Fall

It seems lately that I've been feeling like I'm finally getting the hang of this whole "having two kids" thing. Izzy is starting to form a regular schedule for herself (at night anyway) and Éva seems to be adjusting well to having a sibling and I'm not feeling totally insane anymore. All has been well...until yesterday.

My friend Kasey and I haven't really been able to spend much time together lately. So, we finally nailed down a plan to spend an hour or so together yesterday afternoon. I was to be at her house at 12:30 and we were just going to push the kiddo's nap times back a bit. No big deal. Well, feeling very on top of things, I decided to put Éva down for a nap early so she wouldn't be grump when we went over to Kasey's to play with Isabelle and Daniel.

I put her in her bed at 10 am with a few books, thinking she'd "read" for a bit and then drift off to sleep...I was right. I went up there at 11 and she was out. So I decided to take the time to wash and blow dry my hair. Another piece of the story: Izzy wouldn't let me put her down...every time I put her down anywhere, she would scream. And she screamed the whole time I washed my hair, but as soon as the blow dryer turned on, she stopped. She likes the blow dryer.

So there I am blow drying my hair, feeling like Super Mom because I managed to put my 2 year old down early, I got my 7 week old to stop screaming and I was confident that I would easily get everyone out the door on time for the play date.

Then, through the loud hum of the blow dryer in my ear, I could hear Éva crying. This did not alarm me because she sometimes wakes up "on the wrong side of the bed." So I thought, "I'll just finish my hair and go up there and check on her in a minute." So I finished my hair, picked up Izzy (who had started screaming again since the blow dryer was no longer running) and headed up stairs. Nothing could've prepared me for what I'd find.

Éva, my pretty little girl, covered in her own poo-poo. It was on her face, her hands, her legs, her sheets...everywhere. And she did not like it one bit. She was crying so hard, and I felt horrible for ignoring her for the few minutes that I had to do my hair.

Well, this was not a "Wet Ones" situation...no this required a heavy duty bath. That meant, I would have to put Izzy down.

So down Izzy went in her crib which instigated her screaming. And off Éva and I headed to the bathroom. I started the bath water and undressed Éva (she was still very upset) and told her that she would have to take a bath. Okay, side note: Éva doesn't take baths...she takes showers with me or Paul(with his bathing suit on). So she doesn't really care for baths. But I had JUST done my hair so I wasn't about to get in the shower! So upon notifying Éva of her impending bath, she became even more upset and I had to pick her up and set her in the bath.

You would've thought I had set the kid in boiling acid the way she reacted! Her whole body tensed and her fists balled up so tightly. Her face was so red and she was just plain mad! So, I try to convince her to sit down in the tub...that's not happening. So I begin scooping up the bath water with her bath cup and pouring it over her stinky body, meanwhile soaking myself because I too am half way in the tub just trying to keep her in there.

So, I have Éva screaming in my ear, and of course, Izzy is getting progressively more upset as each moment passes that Mommy does not pick her up. She was screaming so loud, I was seriously worried she might hurt herself...an aneurysm or something. I swear, it was something out of a movie!

I finally got Éva out of the bath (still very upset) and wrapped her in her towel. Then I ran over to the crib and picked up Izzy, who immediately stopped wailing, and off we went down stairs to get a diaper on Éva. It was 12:00.

I put Izzy down in Éva's bean bag right next to me as I put Éva's diaper on her and tried to talk in a soothing voice to help her calm down. I fixed Éva a snack and some milk, and put her in front of a video for a bit so I could tend to Izzy and get myself ready so that we could be out the door in 20 minutes! And there was still poopy sheets to tend to!!!

Needless to say, we managed to get out the door on time, and the sheets were an easy clean in the washing machine and the Lord was able to bless me with enough patience to be able to laugh through the whole ordeal and not lose my temper.

So, I learned my lesson. Even Super Moms have "poopy" days every once in a while.