Some days

Some days are just so very unglamorous. I would rather be home with Claire than working any job, but that doesn't change the fact that some days are just so. not. glamorous.

Some days, I get absolutely nothing accomplished outside of keeping Claire alive. The laundry continues piling up and dinner isn't creative and dishes COVER the kitchen and the groceries don't get purchased (which, in hindsight, probably leads to very creative dinners...due to the lack of intentional ingredients). Claire is still in her pajamas when Brad gets home, and she needs a really thorough bath but she and I are both too tired for that business.

Some days, she is sick, and I spend the entire day following her around with a roll of toilet paper (because we ran out of tissues), wiping her nose and making her hate me for it. Or worse: using the baby nose suction bulb. Oh, the look of loathing she gives me.

Some days, I learn the gross way that if she sneezes, I need to have a tissue at her nose with .7 second. Otherwise...

Some sick days involve nothing but crying and whimpering and not sleeping and not being content with anything.

Some days like this include me strapping her on my back because that's the only thing that keeps her from crying. Unfortunately, her nose in such close proximity to the back of my shirt means that my shirt back is COVERED in nose grossness. But, then again, so is the front of my shirt because of carrying her normally prior to putting her on my back. Also? On those days, I generally don't even bother changing out of the nose-grossness shirt. There's no point.

Some of those sick days result in me rocking her all day (not complaining about that part) while she struggles to suck on her pacifier though not actually being able to breathe through her stuffy nose. We do these things while watching Veggietales silly songs for the 29,387th time. 

Some days that play out like that end with me sitting on the crushed-Cheerio-covered tile floor of the kitchen (because I was too weary to move the booster seat chair close to a grown-up chair), reaching above my head to spoon (very un-wanted) squash and cauliflower into Claire's mouth, while doing my darndest to keep her runny nose in check. And out of her food. Ew.

And, some days I go to bed with the kitchen, laundry, and grocery list completely unseen to, just thankful that we all made it through the day.

(Then, I wake up the next morning with my nose running. At least I know how to blow my nose.)