The tantrums are killing me. It's so not W. He was always the easiest baby. I never had problems with putting on his shoes, changing his diaper, getting him to go upstairs or downstairs, with him walking when I wanted him to or letting me carrying him if we were in a rush, putting on his clothes. Nothing. I'm not exaggerating. Now I am having problems with all of the above and I am tired. Today he was pissed off I put the colors away so we could go upstairs to wind down for his nap. I had to basically drag him up the stairs, dead weight and all. Not an easy task period, much less when you are carrying an extra ten pounds or more of baby weight. I'm still trying to catch my breath. I will say thought that all the crying stopped when I had him turn on his music for naptime-at this stage, the sweetest part of the day.
What to do with these few hours. So much! I don't even know where to begin. So I move from the anxiety that tantrums produce to the anxiety of not enough time to nap, blog, prep for dinner (I'm making a new dish from Giada di Laurentis' Everyday Italina, inspired by my friend who is making something from her cookbook too), call the AC man, the doctor, make my haircut appointment, organize the office that's still in shambles since we moved in, and eat lunch.
Gotta go! Times a wastin'!