Paranoia Blues

Today did not get off to the best start. Somehow during the night I inadvertently turned the monitor all the way down, so when I woke up this morning around 8:30, the little red light was fully engaged. I jumped out of bed and flew into the nursery apologizing, "Oh Lucas, Mommy's sorry, Mommy's sorry..." over and over. Of course he was crying so hard he had the sup-sups. He was teething, hungry, his diaper was wet, and he was PISSED. His usual routine is to wake up and play for 15 minutes or so before firing up his aquarium, which is the signal that he's ready to get out of the crib. The fact that when I finally got to him there was no music, no fishies, and a tear-soaked sheet makes me think he was probably awake for an hour or so before I showed up. Fantastic.

So I changed his diaper and rocked him a little singing a selection of early Paul Simon (Oooh, paraphernalia...). Still crying. Aha! We are hungry! So I put him in his high chair with an Elmo doll and started singing about oatmeal to the tune of Me & Julio. Lucas was so upset by the time I sat down to feed him that he almost couldn't eat. Inhaling dramatically as he attempted a spoonful of cereal, he sucked it down the wrong pipe, choked, and threw back up the little he had managed to get down. After a few more attempts with the cereal, I made him a bottle. That helped a little. But then he had to endure the dreaded clean-up. Getting wiped down sent him over the edge again.

Next we headed into the living room. I sat Lucas down with some toys, made sure the gate at the top of the stairs was shut, and went back into the kitchen to make coffee. When I came back, Lucas was nowhere to be seen (And when I looked I see my Chow Fon's gone...). Had he rolled behind the chair? No. Under the dining room table? Nope. Then I heard laughter coming from down the hallway. Lucas had crawled into the bathroom (Yes, his Bad Mommy left the door open again) where he had pulled himself up on the bathtub and apparently cornered two of our cats. (Why the cats were in the bathtub to begin with will have to be the subject of another post.) This, apparently, was hilarious enough to temporarily erase the memory of his otherwise traumatic morning. I was able to wash my face and brush my teeth while he squealed at Tooter & Beans, who just sat in the bathtub looking confusedly at the baby, "So, what, he like follows us around now?"

I attempted to return Lucas to the living room long enough to run back to the nursery and grab his clothes. Crying. "Here's Mommy!" I called gleefully upon my return. But Lucas wasn't there. He had migrated to the kitchen, where he stood, hanging onto the open (full) dishwasher for support.

Anyway, the child is mobile now, and quite fast, with a talent for scooting under the radar. As his days of freedom unfurl before him like a special crawly carpet, mine have come to an abrupt, paranoid halt. Full stop.