Grampa's Breakdown

ND had me going around in circles yesterday.

Lately, she hasn't exactly taken to having her diaper changed. As soon as she's plopped on the changing table, the struggle begins as she latches onto the side and begins to heave herself around. Generally, I fight the good fight, which I barely survive. Talk about being battered and bruised. Well, I was in the midst of it when the phone rang, so I thought I'd better check it out.

You see, you have to understand, that she has begun to be quite concerned when the phone rings. It must be answered, and I must be heard to speak. But the caller had hung up by the time that I got there with ND hard on my heels. The kids have quite the phone system of which have yet to unravel all of the arcane mysteries. My uncanny brain has pretty well figured out how to check the most recent caller though, and this time it was Mom, so I should call back. What my uncanny brain is still figuring is how to redial the last number. This took me several minutes with the kid getting more and more anxious and setting up her version of the banshee cry. As soon as I got connected and started talking to Mom, however, she calmed right down. Yes, she's a strange duck.

Shortly thereafter, this good grampa decided to offer her a drink before taking her out for a walk. In good faith I handed her the sippy cup and ducked in the bathroom for ... maybe a minute and a half ... and came out to find her soaked. Somehow, she has been managing to empty the supposedly water tight cup onto herself lately. So ... back we go for another Wrestlemania on the change table. This time she won: managed to haul herself right up. So I let her enjoy her moment of victory before putting her on the floor to finish the job.

Well wasn't her top wet, the one I had just changed? And didn't I find a puddle on the table? Unbeknownst to me at the time, hadn't she peed all over both the table and herself. So it was time to change her yet again, me scampering through the house after her, her having a ton of fun.

Eventually, I did get her changed, but moments later (literally only moments) didn't I smell something rather suspicious? That dratted kid had deposited a trophy into her loomers. Sigh. One more time into the ... er ... breeches.

Finally, it was walk time, but she simply wouldn't keep her hat or mittens on. And I find them difficult to put on her in the first place. Soon I gave up; it was pretty mild out after all, so mild that I removed my jacket and waked in my T-shirt. Yes, it was just one week ago that we had our first snowfall. But it was glorious today! Nevertheless, her hands got pretty cold, but I was ... not beyond caring but beyond be able to do battle.

Nap time: I have no trouble getting ND to sleep. but for the life of me, I can't get her from arms to crib without her waking and she sobbing her heart out. Today, I decided that since she really does need some rest during the day, that I would rock her for a half hour after she feel asleep. So, if she still awoke when I put her down, at least she would have had enough sleep to perhaps be bearable for the remainder of the day (and she was). So I did. I rocked her to sleep and then rocked her for thirty-five more minutes. But she woke up as soon as I tried to put her down.

So don't blame me if Cuppa comes on here and posts that good, old AC won't be posting for awhile as he has been hospitalized after a nervous breakdown.

PS: If you wondering where Cuppa was during my time of need, she was attending to her coiffure. She did allow me several hours of reprieve when she returned, during which time I went home, hugged myself into my recliner all the while shaking and weeping uncontrollably.

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More evidence of my fragile mental state: as winter rapidly approaches, I am just now getting around to posting my autumn template. It should be good for ... oh ... about two minutes. Sigh.