Cheese in Bra= Long Day

Yesterday I ended the day covered in spit up with cheese in my bra. But let me start at the beginning.

Our day began like any other day, full of morning smiles and coos. Actually, it was kind of a big morning for Camden-- he slept in his crib for 5 hours the night before (instead of his bassinet by our bed or actually in our bed). Granted, I slept on his floor on a mattress, but still-- it was progress.

Then came morning nap time. It lasted for 30 minutes. No big deal, I thought. He'll just take a longer nap later. Wrong! Every single nap Camden took yesterday lasted no more than 30 minutes. He was exhausted. His eyes were red-rimmed and he kept rubbing them. He was fussy and frustrated. I was frustrated. And still, he fought sleep all day long.

Around dinner time, I decided to give him a bath. He enjoys baths and I thought it might temporarily stop the fussing. I watched in relief as he started kicking his legs in the water and grinning at me. Then suddenly, he froze.

"What's wrong, budd---" Before I could complete my thought, he spit-up. Not the little, dribble out of the side of the mouth spit-up that I've grown so accustomed to. This was almost projectile and looked like the entire contents of his last meal. I looked down at the bath water and it was almost completely white. My son was bathing in his own vomit.

I really, really wanted to cry. For both of us. Thankfully, the logical side of myself knew that crying would only make me more tired and give me a headache and so I resisted. Instead, I plastered on a smile, filled the tub with new water, and gave Camden a second bath.

When Matt came home, he made tacos for dinner and brought me a plate while I nursed Camden. I felt the sprinkles of cheese falling into my bra while I ate one-handed but I didn't have the energy to care. I also didn't have the energy to care that my hair was pulled sloppily into a bun. Or that I wasn't wearing even a touch of makeup. Or that I was wearing black leggings covered in spit-up and a maternity shirt that's now about 8 sizes too big for me. I was the definition of frumpy.

On a brigher note, I think I may have discovered the reason for Camden's 30 minute naps and subsequent fussiness. Maybe. I don't want to jinx myself by posting about that just yet (what? you didn't know jinxing was real?). And I have to close anyway because Camden is (you guessed it!) fussing right now.