"Wow.  I'd get nothing done," she interrupted herself to say.  I looked at the nurse quizzically, as she had been in the middle of giving me medical advice, only to stop mid sentence, staring at the baby on my lap.  

"You're just... I mean... really cute."  (This to Lincoln, not me).

Pause.  Then, addressing me again, "I would be staring at him all day.  I have two boys, but, this one... Nope.  Nothing would get done."  

I managed an appreciative half smile in return.  Yes, I know and agree that Lincoln is adorable.  This kid has some dreamy eyes, let me tell you!  And I love receiving compliments like the one I received at the doctor's office today.  The thing is, she hit a little too close to home.  I don't get anything done.  And sometimes, it becomes disheartening.  Today is just one of those days.  

In order for things to go smoothly, a mother (and a wife) has to be relatively selfless.  It's amazing what the job requires.  On a good night, Lincoln wakes up to feed every two hours.  Considering the time it takes to feed him, get him settled back in his crib, crawl into bed myself, and try to fall asleep again, those two hours turn into little more than back to back feeding with catnaps in between.  

But as of late, the little guy has decided he just can't sleep unless he's in my arms.  I have to admit, this is endearing.  Especially during the day, as I talk to him softly, watching his little eyelids slowly close and his chubby fingers clutching mine.  Even in the dead of night, when I'm exhausted at 3 am without having slept a wink... I can't help but smile at the warm, soft and cuddly body curled in my arms.  But sometimes, I get a little irked.  I have stomped my foot as I throw myself out of bed to go assuage Lincoln's screams, having put the kid to sleep only 10 minutes ago.  And it's not as if Tyler can help.  Even if I make a bottle, it's more work for him to heat it up, more time for Lincoln to spend awake and screaming, more time to just... be a hassle.  So I end up sleeping sitting upright in the recliner in the nursery, because it's the only solution that keeps everyone else happy and quietly asleep.  

We had Lincoln on a feeding schedule of every 3 hours during the day.  It worked wonderfully for a couple weeks.  The tension between Tyler and me was finally relieved in the evenings, because there was a scheduled and predictable moment when he could hand Lincoln over, rather than me hovering over them every time the baby cried, saying, "Maybe he needs to eat!"

But I think the little guy hasn't been feeling well.  His diapers are more runny, so I have forgone the convenience of scheduled feedings, in case they didn't give him adequate fluid.  Now we're back to feeding on demand, which means that I never know how long I can be out and about safely without needing to find an inconspicuous, comfortable nook for us to take care of business.  

Whatever is up with him has also made him cranky.  Lincoln is relatively easy going, if you give him a variety of experiences each day.  He needs to be held only so much, laid down to bat at his toys only so much, have a rattle dangled in his face only so much, ride in the car seat only so much, read books only so much, and sit in his bouncy chair only so much.  Meanwhile, the kitchen trash piles up because I can't carry both him and it out to the dumpster.  Laundry gets washed but not folded.  I wear the same outfit everyday because a) I can't fit into anything else, and b) I have to be dressed to flash every couple hours!  

If there is anything on the day's schedule outside of the normal song and dance, it takes up most of my energy and time.  Like the doctor's visit today.  Where I was left in a room, half naked, amusing my baby with the rattle we thankfully had in the diaper bag, for a full hour.  At which point, I stuck my head out the door and uttered a weak, "Um, excuse me?"  It turns out they forgot about us.  Awesome.  I was already near tears to begin with.  Today, it got to the point where I just wanted to whip the car up to a McDonald's drive thru, and ask for a gazillion cookies.   And that's when I know I've been driven to the edge.  But heaven knows I can't afford to be pushed over it again.  So I texted a friend whom I knew I could count on in these situations.  

Now we're home.  And Lincoln, with his uncanny ability to sense my frustration, even when I try my best to disguise it, has been fussing for an hour.  So how am I typing this up, you ask?  Cloned myself.  The real me is sitting here in a massage chair with earplugs and a martini. 

I would like to say that I'm looking forward to 6:15 when my husband walks through the door.  But honestly, I get a little nervous as that time of day draws near.  The poor man is so stressed with a job he doesn't like, and a gmat he blatantly hates (looming over our heads, only til Saturday, thank goodness) that his temperament is frighteningly unpredictable.  I don't know if he'll freak out over me asking him to do something that takes away from his time with Lincoln, or over my not doing something to help when his time with Lincoln becomes too stressful.  My husband's only-so-much meter is more difficult to read than his son's.  But you would think that at his age, he'd be managing that himself!  I love my husband, but sometimes...  (Here, Tyler, is where I'd give my best Brad Pitt impression...)  Ha ha. 

And, cut.  End Scene of Emily's Woes.  I'm feeling better already.  Sometimes you just have to vent.  After all, how can life be so bad, when I get to do this anytime I want?