I am normally good at being a chilled-out new mom. But right now, I am filled with a crimson rage. I just had the most annoying morning walk with my dog and I'm ready to snap. I don't know if there is such a thing, but I'm going to call this "mommy rage."
Lack of sleep for four straight f*cking months + everything that is irritating = mommy rage
Let me describe for you what I THOUGHT was going to be a lovely morning stroll.
I strapped Cole into his carrier, put the dog on the leash, flicked down my sunglasses and decided "why don't I treat myself to a latte this morning?" Fantastic.
The sun was shining—it wasn't too hot, or too windy, "What a perfect morning!" (really it was the most annoying morning ever, in disguise).
First, I nearly got hit by a car (like I do most mornings) "Watch where you're going!" I yell at the d-bag in a mini van. Grrrr. I continue my way up the first hill and the dog starts pulling at the leash. Oh—he must have to poo. Nope. Just pee. Again. For the 10 thousandth time. Damn male dogs wanting to mark everything in sight. I yank on his leash and we make our way to the Italian bakery where I plan on getting my delicious latte.
I walk inside, and it's 100 thousand million degrees (yes, that is an accurate measure). I instantly begin sweating as I wait for my latte. It seems that my core temperature is rising with every degree she steams the milk. Finally it's done. I sprint towards the door and lean into it with all of my might. Too bad it's a PULL door. Aghhh. That's not embarrassing.
Once I'm outside I realize the latte is almost too hot to hold, and have to find a fancy way of holding it so it doesn't burn my fingers or my baby. So I end up walking with my arm outstretched completely so that if I accidentally fall, I won't scald Cole. Great. This is comfortable. I look like a tightrope walker. Sort of.
Okay, I just have to make it home. I can do this. So I pick up the pace.
My body temperature has now increased by about 500% and the dog is only becoming MORE annoying, if that's even possible. He is pulling and pulling and pulling (he still hasn't pooped.) Okay, finally—a poo. So I balance the hot coffee on someone's rock garden ledge, as I do a deep lunge (with Cole in the carrier—while holding the dog) to pick up the poo. Awesome! It's hot and super smelly. I now proceed to carry the hot coffee, my baby, the dog, and a hot steaming bag of shit.
Never ever again will I think it's a good idea to "grab a latte" on my morning walk with the dog. Lesson learned.
I continue to walk home, and Cole is getting squirmy. The dog is pulling still, and I now have a rock in my sandal and my jogging pants (yes jogging pants—shut up) are about to fall off and expose my bare ass to the world. I'm pretty sure I have a plumber butt, and I don't even have a spare hand to pull up my pants. Aghhhhh!!!
I quickly waddle across the intersection and nearly get hit again by another car. "SLOW THE F*CK DOWN!"
I'm now sweating and I make my way up my front step. I put the key in the door, put down my coffee, release my wild animal of a dog and run upstairs to put Cole (who is now asleep) into his crib so that I can type this blog as my rage is still fresh off the press!!!
Ahhh. Wow. That actually feels better to get that off my chest. My latte is now cold cuz I've neglected it in order to write, but my body temperature has at least returned to normal.
And best of all? The baby and the dog are both asleep.
Life is good again.
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