When life gets in the way...

Tonight's work day was EPICALLY long. Not only was I scheduled to work thirteen hours, but then I got out more than a half an hour late because S. (father) got home from work late, thus making me late, and cranky, and tired, and more than a little bit annoyed. Knowing that they appreciate my willingness to stay does not make up for the fact that if I'm supposed to leave work at 8, and it takes me an hour and fifteen minutes to get home, thus getting me in at 9:15, I have to still find time to work out, make and eat a healthy dinner, shower, and oh yeah, maybe say hello to Alix? Did I mention I wake up at either 4:15 or 5:15 AM to get to work in the morning?

Needless to say, the making dinner and working out did not happen tonight. We ordered healthy vegetarian Thai food from the place around the corner, ate less than half of it, and will have the rest tomorrow. We also calculated our calories for the day (an annoying, time-consuming process), and came out around a healthy 1400 or so. Possibly more because of the Thai food, but takeout is a rare occurrence around here so we'll allow it. I snacked on whole wheat bread with the vegan spread, Greek yogurt, an apple with peanut butter, and grapefruit today. I also did a yoga dvd while Monkey napped but I didn't really feel like it did much. My plan for these long work days is to bring my 30 Day Shred or Cardio Max dvd's and do them while Monkey either naps, watches his Baby Einstein videos nearby, or giggles at his ridiculous nanny jumping and sweating all over the living room (probably the last one). To lighten the mood of this cranky post, I'll share the highlight of my evening with Monkey: a poop-tastrophe (poop + catastrophe = poop-tastrophe). Stop reading if you're afraid of poop.

Monkey gets really cranky and fussy around 7:30-8:00 PM. It is his witching hour, and nothing really helps except walking slowly around the house with him in the sling, being careful to avoid all the awkward corners and furniture alignments that one-bedroom NYC apartments are famous for. He is sleepy but won't sleep, he isn't hungry, but wants his ba-ba (pacifier), he doesn't want to play and will howl indignantly if I so much as think about setting him down (enter, the life-saving sling I now own), and he certainly, most definitely DOES NOT want to go to bed. So there we are, wandering the house, watching the Food Network on mute, when I catch a whiff of something bad. Steeling myself for the wrath that awaits me removing him from his cozy sling, I quickly unwrap him and lay him on the couch to change him. (The changing table has been converted to a bookshelf because he was scaring the bejesus out of me with his ability to almost rocket himself off the end. Hence, the couch is safer.) I grab my supplies, unwrap his diaper, and find, to my horror, that we have a SUTB situation (Shit Up The Back). Waaayyyy up. Envision this: Giggly Monkey is thrilled to have his manly bits uncovered and so is handling them with glee, poop has covered his front, backside, and halfway to his armpits, I am balancing him on his belly on the side of the couch while I carefully, carefully roll the poopy clothes over his head to avoid getting any more of it spread around. I toss the clothes in the hamper (Not. My. Problem.), and come to the executive decision that naked Monkey needs a bath. STAT. So in we go, gleefully splashing in his baby bathtub, getting a good scrub all over and then a cozy towel wrap, a fresh diaper, a lotion rub-down, and some fleecy frog pajamas. A few cuddles later, and my munchkin man is fast asleep....just in time for his dad to come home and wake him up. Again - Not. My. Problem.