I woke up in a bad mood this morning. It started yesterday, actually, when our daycare center called me at 4:00 to tell me Anne drank her last bottle at 2:45 and seemed hungry again. Knowing that my husband never gets there before 4:30 to pick her up, I was annoyed that they waited so long to tell me she was out of milk. Then when I got home it appeared from her daily report that while I sent 14 oz, they only recorded her drinking 12 and we were left wondering where the other 2 ounces went. Then while stuffing the inserts back in her freshly-laundered cloth diapers last night I discovered that one of the teachers has been readjusting the elastic bands in the legs. They have numbered settings so the diapers can be adjusted up to 35 lbs, and they were not on the settings I put them on. This was the last straw and I was so irritated I had a dream this morning about talking to the morning teacher about the diapers.
Add to the previous night's frustration lack of sleep because Anne is currently waking up three times a night to nurse, between the hours of 1:00 am and 4:00 am, and then the fact that Lansinoh's new breastmilk storage bag design is faulty and inaccurate (often .5 oz less than what the bag says) which meant I had to dig out a rock-hard bag of milk from the freezer to make sure Anne had enough for today, and I think it's safe to say my morning was full of fail.
But then after I laid Anne down on our bed so I could get dressed, she opened her eyes and looked across the room at me.
"Good morning!" I said.
And she grinned. Suddenly all of my irritation and frustration dissipated and all I felt was my intense love for my daughter.
I think it's virtually impossible to stay grumpy with a baby that smiles at you all the time. And then I watched as she found her toes this morning, and the world was good again.
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