Thursday Morning Hangover

Or, how working full-time and having a few busy nights away from home causes a morning disaster. Read on....

I don’t even know how that morning went wrong. I awoke at 2:00 am. I laid awake in bed until sometime between 5 and 6. I awoke at 6 am or so, so I had to have been asleep for at least a little bit. I heard Oliver crying; he was up and ready to nurse. I asked Matt to go get him, that I had been awake for a few hours in the night and couldn’t manage to get my body in gear yet. I was motionless and each time I opened my eyes, the world was blurred.

Oliver came into the room and he nursed for quite a while. It was 7:00 before I dragged his clingy body and my exhausted flesh and bones out of bed. We made coffee, but he cried he wanted to nurse. Finally he ran into the living room and opened his box of toys—becoming preoccupied with a few things he hadn’t seen in a while. This gave me time to make a couple of coffees, visit the bathroom and run into his room to pick out his clothes for the day.

Next he ran into his room to be with me and began to read his books. This gave me the chance to change his diaper and dress him, or so I thought. He fought me, and as we struggled, he began to get obsessed with nursing again. I got his diaper on, and then his shirt. But he grasped and pulled on my shirt, crying, whimpering that he wanted to nurse, until I finally gave in. His body went limp, his mouth silent in a rhythmic motion.

Matt finally got up. It was about 7:15 - 20 by now. I knew time was running short. I had not even gotten to myself yet, and Oliver was only half dressed. I couldn’t manage to get his shoes on him. I had to pull him off me and he fought with such resistance to remain attached. I was gone all day Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. He needed to reconnect with me, for me to remain still and offer him the one comfort of love that he wanted most.

But time was running out and I had to get going. 7:30 now. Matt was nearby in the kitchen getting Oliver’s lunch ready. Eventually Oliver ran between his father and me, going back and forth while I scanned my closet for something— anything — presentable to wear. It was obvious I wasn’t going to have time to brush my teeth, wash my face or even come close to getting make-up applied. I found something simple to throw on. My hair, unkempt and dirty, looked day-old and sleep was still in my eyes. I was not fully awake yet myself.

The stress was beginning to take shape. I could feel my temperature rising, my patience wearing thin. Oliver was not participating. This is where it gets hard, real hard, being a full-time working mother and attending two spiritual events a week. This is why making the choice to have my hair done once-a-month is really sacrificing more than just three hours of my time. It’s time away from my son, a son who needs his mother. It makes some mornings unbearable; ultimately insane.

I yelled to Matt, “Get Oliver! Please! I have to get ready! I have to get out of here in less than 10 minutes!”

He came and got Oliver and with a sour, aggravated response said, “I’ll just take him to day care.” He was obviously annoyed with me, me! What the heck?

This just fueled my response. I pulled on the rest of my clothes behind his slammed door. I wasn’t ready to blast anyone, but I knew that’s where I could go if I’m was not going to be careful. Oliver continued to cry and knock on the door so that he could be by me.

After I was dressed I noticed the time. I had about 5 minutes. Oliver started talking about a toy that was in my car. This was incentive enough to get him to put on his shoes and coat. I realized I was going to be able to take him to day care after all if I hurry. It would give us just a little more time together. Out we went.

The drive towards his day care calmed me. I put on some soft, serene music. "I tired Momma," said Oliver in protest of the sleepy, calming music. I changed the CD. But there was enough of the soothing music in my memory to hold on to, and I regrouped, breathed in, and began my day.

It's a day later as I write this. I'm leaving my job for the day—the weekend begins. Time for me to be a wife and a mom tonight. The work day's not over, but neither is the fun.

See you guys soon!