Cranky times

The baby's been really cranky this week, and so have I. I blame teething. At least, I hope it's teeth, because that means it will go away when the teeth are in!

When we had the baby's party, we cleaned the whole apartment. And then the guests did the dinner dishes. But the baby was in bed too early to do the dessert dishes (the clatter of dishes right outside the bedroom wakes him up), so the party ended with those dishes still out.

As of yesterday, those dishes were still all over the kitchen, drying out. Just keeping it real here. For once I actually WANTED to wash dishes, but with a cranky baby grabbing my legs, whining, and trying to snatch anything I put in the dishwasher, they had to wait. And when the other person in the house is a half-time student, if I don't do the dishes, they sometimes don't get done till the weekend. NOT AN OPTION.

Also, the vacuuming job from Sunday was totally obliterated by Wednesday ... it might as well not have been done at all, what with all the crumbs the baby scatters. I bought the baby crayons in the hopes of keeping him entertained, but he just chewed them up and spit them onto the carpet. Really, kid? Why?

For some stupid reason, the way you are when you're stressed out, I kept trying to do "me stuff." Facebook, reading books, packing boxes. But the baby would have none of it. He emptied the boxes, he grabbed the books, and one time as I stealthily snuck into my computer chair while he was entertained with something else, he started to scream and flung himself down on the floor. I shouldn't even try ... I don't know why I do. It's much less stressful to just accept that "me time" isn't happening.

During his naps, I know I should get things done. But the two things I most want to do, dishes and vacuuming, would wake him. And the other things I need to do -- schoolwork, writing -- require focus I can't seem to muster. So I've spent the whole time reading blogs and beating myself up. Then I suddenly think of something I can do, hurry up to start doing it -- and he wakes up. I don't even get my evening quiet time, because he's been in bed late every night this week. (In fairness to him, he's been sleeping great once he finally goes down.)

All day long on Wednesday, as I battled burnout while reading story after story, playing Duplos, and rolling a ball around, I would see these tiny tiny ants. Uh-oh, here's one in the carpet! Oh, look, one on your toy! Dang it, I see one on the changing table!

I hate ants. But they come in off the patio. It doesn't help that we sometimes leave the glass door open (with the screen door shut) because it's the only window in the living room and it gets quite stuffy. I'm thinking we'll just have to run the A/C if we want to keep them out.

Last night, after John was home and it FINALLY wasn't a class night, he took the baby and I went nuts. I did all the dishes, cleaned the counters, and picked up the living room. Then I grabbed the vacuum and started running it around in a sort of frantic, cackling, witchy way. "I'm getting the vacuuming done! Death to crumbs! I'll kill you all! I'll kill you!" Yeah, John and the baby wisely stayed out of my way.

As I was vacuuming, I came across a piece of cheese the baby had dropped on the floor. So I picked it up, tossed it on my desk, and kept vacuuming. When I had put the vacuum away, I went to my desk to throw away the cheese.

It was a heaving mass of ants. There were ants coating the cheese and ants all over my desk. Something snapped in my already-addled brain. I threw the cheese in the sink and drowned all the ants. Then I grabbed a diaper, got it wet, and went around smashing all the ants that were left. I dumped everything off my desk and cleaned every single thing. I dumped baby powder (I heard it helps?) everywhere and then stood trembling over the wreckage. I HATE ANTS. So much!

So, my apartment hasn't been this clean in ages, I feel somewhat better (as long as I don't see an ant), and the rain has let up, so we will get to play outside today. PLUS, tomorrow -- as long as they don't push it back yet again! -- we will close on the house. A house with HARDWOOD FLOORS (I used to love carpet, but the baby has taught me to hate it!), a bedroom that is NOT right next to the kitchen and is JUST for baby, an actual YARD that is ALL MINE ... I really, really can't wait.

Oh, and this is what my plants look like:

The nice tomato plants and the sage plant came from the farmers' market. The teeny-tiny tomato plants were planted by me a week and a half ago. I had thought they wouldn't sprout, so I bought the seedlings as a backup. I didn't know at the time that it would be Friday before we closed, so they are more than ready to go in the ground. I hope they'll be all right. That sage plant is really getting out of hand. The tomatoes are Cherokee Purple, an heirloom variety I am very excited about.

So, IF we manage to close on this house tomorrow, many of my problems will begin to go away, and maybe I will be able to stop it with The Crazy. I hear it happens to every mom sometimes, but ... I am so done with it. Here's to sanity, clean houses, happy babies, and playing outside!