Today I was on top of things. I marched Charlotte out the door at 9:30am, 45 minutes early for church. Drove the 15 minutes to church, dropped her off and trotted off to the church coffee shop for a cranberry muffin and decaf latte. Feeling rather smug, I strolled into church on time and located a seat at the front.
20 minutes before the end of the service, I see Charlotte's numbers come up on the big screen (it's a church that seats 7,000 people and the nursery assigns a number to each baby so if your child is misbehaving, or in the case of a 3 month old, freaking out, they can notify the parents). I grab my little card and check back and forth like 3 times, yep it's my kid. I craw over 5 people to get out and walk back the entire length of the church (did I mention it's big enough to seat 7,000 people?)
I arrive at the nursery to find her sleeping - it was such a big cry that she wore herself out! I'm rather absent minded at times so I really hope her numbers were not up there too long before I noticed them. She screams as soon as she sees me as if to say, thank God your here I was tortured.
The remainder of the day was okay but she clung to me all day. At one point I forgot to keep my hair back and she got a handful. She wouldn't let go, and I couldn't change positions so she got really mad. My how those little hands can grip!
Crying, mad and grabbing a handful of hair and she is still cute. Sorry to hear that your bubble got burst. :)
Sadly it happens to a lot of mums. Babies sunddenly reach the age when they notice you're not there and then they complain. Who can blame them? Their willing slave is not in constant view!
Also just read your previous post about Sarah Palin - very interesting. I don't want to express an opinion as I'm not American and can't vote, but it's interesting all the same...
oh dear ((hugs)) all round! teeth, wind, being little when everything else is big... we used to console ourselves with the thought that ours screamed when they were trying to discuss something with us. it didn't help.
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