Originally, Tim and I were supposed to leisurely wake up Saturday morning and drive out to Tampa with the kids. All of that got thrown off course when we got a call from a friend with FREE tickets to a Dropkick Murphys concert in Tampa Friday night (how can we resist?! - Tim and I still like to take opportunities to act like a bunch of hooligans in a pit every now and then).
So, coming home on Friday night went from me gearing up to plop down on the couch, to me rushing around the house like a homeless person dumpster diving on crack. I literally was just throwing items into a suitcase without even considering clothing color coordination, population control, and hygiene (I totally forgot deodorant AND my birth control!).
To make things even more stressful, I am in the process of trying to wean Dylan from breast-feeding. A task that appears to be easy, but leaves you with aching swollen breasts, an infant who releases a high pitched squeal when he doesn't get boobies on-demand, and a heart that just can't give up the closeness just yet. I decided to get the ball rolling on beginning to ban the breast for a few reasons:
1. Dylan is now 6 months (so excited I made it to the 6 month mark this time around!...Jonas wasn't so easy)
2. I am not one of those super psycho moms who thinks that feeding your baby formula is like making a pact with the devil
3. At work, not only am I super busy, but I have also been reduced to hiding under my desk to find some pumping privacy (a place I have actually come to kinda enjoy ala Costanza style....see below), while trying to not scar my college level interns by having them see me transfer breast milk into baggies
Take note of book and leg room....plus, no interruptions!
Basically what I am getting to is that this has made for one cranky baby and extremely sore boobies. My only saving grace has been Dylan's binky, which produces an even higher pitched squeal from him when not being sucked so hard he practically swallows it (another habit I am going to have to wean him from shortly).
The remainder of the weekend was spent recovering from Fridays concert and coming home late Saturday from in-law family time in Tampa, then spending Sunday morning scrubbing toilets while arguing with Tim who was trying to plan a skateboarding session with his friend during what was going to be our family day at the park (whew! I need to catch my breath). We then proceeded to visit my mother who held us hostage until 6 at night, bringing us home at almost 7pm, which left us with just enough time to bathe the children and fit in some story time before hitting the sack.
To top off my Sunday evening, my bed time got held up by 2 stench ridden diapers (Tim and I seriously spent time analyzing which kid had a smellier poop). In my exhausted haze I somehow managed to get Dylan's uncommonly solid poop all over his belly, arms and feet (solid poop is supposed to be easier to clean!).
I have consequently begged Tim to do absolutely NOTHING next weekend....including seeing no one but each other and our own 2 kids (I swear I say this every week!).