Good Days, Bad Days, Wine Nights

I knew yesterday was too good to be true.

Luca was an absolute delight yesterday. From the moment she woke up until her bedtime, she was alert, happy, giggling...just sucking in her surroundings. While I watched her in awe-filled silence, I couldn't help but think that she's going to be just like me. Pensive yet observant. Smart. Attentive. Quick-witted. Not to toot my own horn but I've been known to be all of the above. I think she cried for MAYBE ten whole minutes yesterday. It was a good, good day. Hell, she even slept through most of the night. I was foolishly misled into believing that the crazy unpredictable infancy horrors were over. Or in the very least on a teensy tiny hiatus.

I really should've known better.

Today was a bad, bad day. From the moment she woke until I FINALLY got her to go to sleep, she was a whiny, bitchy crank-monster. This normally happens when she wakes up and sometimes during the day, but I can break it up when she naps. However, today, Little Miss Lulu Ivy did not nap. Oh no, no, no, no. She didn't nap at all. She cried a lot. She fussed. She faked a nap or two, thus lulling me into a false sense of relief only to be yanked from my utopia and back into mommy-land where the ability to piss by oneself or even make something that does not require the toaster or microwave is a fleeting, retarded thing of the past.

I tried walking her around the neighborhood. No dice. I tried the car ride to the local store where she cried her head off while I was shopping (please know that I am not one of those people that will leave the store because the baby's crying....I say let them cry and if the patrons don't like it, they can suck my sore nipple) and then finally fell asleep while I was waiting in line....however, I was stuck with the clerk from hell who felt the need to tell his life's story to every customer so by the time I made it through the line and survived his stupid bullshit, she was awake before I could get her into the car. Yes, she wailed the entire ride home. I really, really wanted to kill that man (store clerk) because it doesn't take ten minutes to ring in some herbs, a bottle of wine, a pie and some macadamia nuts. I keep thinking that if only I'd gotten her to the car before she woke up...

So tonight is a wine night. I finally got her to sleep after she projectile vomited my own breast milk all over me (fabulous aim, that kid) and I re-fed her because she had to be hungry again. She is currently in the bassinet which is even further proof that she didn't sleep today because she fucking hates that thing and I am happily sucking down some shiraz. Because I deserve it. Because I've been carting around a screaming, fussy baby for well over twelve hours non-stop. Because I need the bottle and frankly am kind of pissy because I can't have it. Because if anything, I will do something for myself, even if that selfish act is a simple glass of vino.

And for all of you that are thinking to yourself, "but it's so worth it because she's so darn cute", I leave you with this thought: she vomited all over her Red Sox onesie.

Is she still so darn cute?