At one thirty am, I gave up on setting down the baby.
At five forty-five am, I finally successfully set down the baby.
At seven forty- five am, my husband woke me to say he needed to go to work soon.
At eight am, I was weeping in the kitchen.
At eight thirty, I'd had a cup of coffee and it gave me back my big girl pants. Except not literally.
At nine, there was poop. It required me to take that outside right now in the rain and a robe.
At ten, I set down the napping baby and started dozing.
At ten fifteen, there was a knock on the door and attendant dog freak out baby wake up. Find a robe, etc. it was the landlord's pest guy who doesn't actually need anything from me.
At eleven, I gave up on salvaging the nap.
At eleven thirty, I managed to be grateful for no one coming to my house while I was pumping breastmilk to put in the baby's lunch. While having a second cup of coffee, an egg white, and a cookie for adult lunch.
At twelve thirty, I got dressed.
At twelve forty, there was a thunderstorm and the dog and baby reacted poorly.
At one ten, I set down a sleeping baby.
At one fifteen, the dog walker woke said baby. I am aware that complaining about the dog walker makes me seem blind to my privilege. Hush. I had a bad day.
At two fifteen, I readied the house for the return of the wet dog. While the baby cried as setting her down turned out not to be her jam. (Being accosted in my bed by a wet dog is probably less popular than she realizes.)
At three, the nap ended without my ever having successfully set down the baby.
At four, I answered a lot of my own questions when I spotted a second tooth.
At five fifty, we loaded up the car and fetched my husband from transit. Mostly for selfish reasons involving my exhaustion and a desire for potato pizza fresh from the oven.
He has a stomach bug.
At five past six, I went in and got the take out. For possibly eight whole minutes, I sat by myself in a restaurant. It was really nice.
At six thirty, I fetched him a bucket.
At seven forty-five, I successfully set down the sleeping baby.
At eight thirty, the bucket got used. And then he asked me to empty the bucket for him and was mean and kind of loud when I hesitated.
At eight thirty-five, there was sympathy puking, and I didn't ask anyone else to clean that up.
At eight forty, the baby woke up.
Which brings us current. It's really been a doozy of a Monday.