What a morning!

I’ve spent the bulk of this past month silently congratulating myself each morning at the ease at which I can get The Boy up, changed, fed, and out the door with minimal fuss and little delay. I could even get his toys (mostly) picked up, and he would even help me!

But, as Big Sis E is quick to remind me, as soon as I have his routine figured out, it changes. Instantly.

He had a really busy weekend, but Cute Husband and I were conscientious about his schedule and made sure we didn’t deviate from it too much. On Friday, he skipped his morning nap (too much excitement at IKEA) and didn’t take his afternoon nap until around 3, but he slept in an extra hour the next morning. On Saturday, he took his morning nap but skipped his afternoon nap (note to self: do not sit in the back seat if you want the baby to nap in the car) en route to the wedding, but he was back in the car and fast asleep before 7:30 and at home in his crib just after 8 – plus he slept in until 7 the next morning. On Sunday, he took both naps and went to bed at his normal time. We made sure he stayed on schedule.

Yesterday afternoon, it seemed like there was a change in the air. Now, granted, I was home (which rarely happens when he comes home from school), but Cute Husband even said that he seemed a little off his regular routine. When I crawled out of bed at 6, he didn’t want to have any dinner at all; he just wanted to nurse and cuddle with Mommy. I was able to get him to eat a tiny piece of chicken, a few pieces of cheese, and half a pear – hardly enough to sustain this growing body considering how much he normally eats. But, I chalked it up to his not feeling well, and he did, after all, eat a hearty breakfast and drink a lot of milk, so I just doubled up his diaper insert and put him to bed.

If ever I questioned a shift in this child’s routine, it was verified this morning – and then some.

I let him sleep in until 6:30. This was his usual waking hour for a while, so it didn’t seem odd to me. Once he awoke and I collected him from his crib (Tommy Bear was left behind for once), he wanted his pacifiers (one in his mouth and one to carry, of course), then he wanted to be put down and allowed to wander the house. The first stop was my bedroom, where he sought out Daddy and threw himself on the floor in a fit when I told him Daddy had gone to work. (Apparently, that’s just not acceptable.) I left the room, and he closed the door after me. Nice, huh? When I opened the door and beckoned him to come out, he obliged, only to throw himself back on the floor in a heap of invisible tears after I closed it.

But, no matter. DJ Lance and the rest of the gang were on TV, and it was the episode where Broby gets to eat lunch! (He perked right up for that!)

After the diaper came off, he decided Yo Gabba Gabba! looks better while standing, so I was treated to my very first standing change this morning. The diapering part wasn’t so bad; it was the ointment application part that was ridiculous.

At any rate, once I got the diaper on, he decided the TV was no longer interesting (he’s seen this episode before, after all) and went to his room to get a book: Sandra Boynton’sBirthday Monsters. As you can guess from the title, it’s a book about monsters coming to celebrate a birthday. Only he wasn’t interested in the story, just in the pictures of the balloons. At which he kept pointing, over and over and over again.

“Yes, baby, that’s a balloon.”

“Ah SAT!” (“What’s that?” for those who don’t speak Toddler.)

“That’s a balloon, too.”

“Uh tuh SAT?” (“What is that?”)

“That’s a green balloon.”

“Ah SAT!”

“And that’s a blue balloon.”

“Ah SAT!”

“That’s a pink balloon.”

“Uh tuh SAT?”

You get the idea.

Oh, and the pages with no balloons? Boooooor-ing. Who knew?

After the book, he crawled into my lap and wanted to nurse. I let him nurse for a little while, then moved him to his high chair… where he proceeded to scream and cry the entire time. He ate a few pieces of pear and three scoops of yogurt, but as soon as pears went flying, I plucked him out of the chair and let him sit on the ground. There, he happily ate three more pear chunks and drank a few sips of milk before returning to the family room and the (now off) TV.

“O abba!” he demanded, pointing at the television.

“It’s not time for TV anymore, it’s time to eat,” I explained, offering a pear chunk. He shook his head, then started to cry and grunt.

When the grunting stopped, I waited about half a minute, then laid him down to change his diaper. Hooray for poops! This time, he didn’t fuss, and I was even able to get some socks on him! But no sooner did I get the second one on his foot that he rolled over and crawled to the Little People bin (which I just filled) and began emptying it.

Since he was content, I decided to finish off his uneaten yogurt while he played, thinking that he would surely come back to the kitchen once he saw me eating. And he came to me several times, each time to hand me a different toy. Oh, it wasn’t to play with him, though; he just wanted me to hold it for him. After the third time, I got wise and popped a pear chunk in his mouth before he could walk away, and he sat down to chew it, then reached for more.

Success! Or so I thought.

After another half hour of cajoling and pleading for him to eat, he finished half of his pears and most of his milk. At that point, there really wasn’t a whole lot more I could do. I put shoes on his feet, then let him guide me out the door to the car.

On our way to school, I decided to listen to normal (read: not children’s) music for a change and put the soundtrack to Cirque du Soleil’s Love in the CD player. The Boy wasn’t a fan. He didn’t cry the whole time or anything, but kept talking over it and certainly didn’t dance the way he does when Joy Division or the Offspring plays.

And when we got to school, I thought I was home free. Oh, no no no. Silly Mommy! You see, all the kids were outside when we got to class, and The Boy decided the classroom was so much more fun without the other kids there, and he just wanted to sit on the little Dora couch and play with the toys and look at all the books, so he wasn’t at all pleased when I took him outside to join his classmates. In fact, he didn’t want to be outside at all, but a cup of cold water distracted him until the end of outdoor play (there were only a few minutes left, anyway).

Once he was back indoors (with all his classmates), I was finally able to make my escape. This morning, my ever-so-easy 45-minute morning routine with The Boy was stretched into almost three hours.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m not saying I want those three hours back. (No, that’s the feeling I got after I finished watching Jumper – horrible movie.) I like hanging out with my son and, fits aside, couldn’t think of a better way to spend three hours.

I just wasn’t ready for this change!

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