The Bad Day, Part One: Where's the Coffee?

I had a singular day yesterday. Singularly...awful.

Doodlebug's second tooth is not proving as easy as the first to break through. The poor little guy has been miserable lately. Night before last, he was up almost every hour wanting to nurse. But then the nursing must have hurt the area where the tooth is cutting through, because he would pull off crying. So before the day even started, both Doodle and I were struggling. He finally gave up even trying to sleep at 5 AM, and I let him watch a VeggieTales show (his favorite thing to do in the world).



Photo courtesy of ukapala on stock.xchng.

 I went to make coffee, and...we were down to our last spoonful of grounds. I NEED COFFEE TO LIVE. It's a simple, non-negotiable fact. So - without losing a precious grain - I carefully spooned the grounds into the French press while I started the water boiling. I let it steep for half of forever, and it still was only the color of apple juice. (We're not even talking apple cider here...this stuff was a light amber color. No kick whatsoever. Boo.)



The twins took a good morning nap, and a glimmer of hope (possibly stoked by the weak coffee) began to burgeon in my chest. Was today the day that I could finally put away the remains of the Christmas decorations? We had gotten the tree and all the trimmings down last week, when we couldn't take it anymore, but we weren't able to get everything packed away. We thought if we confined it all to one small area, we would at least feel better about it. Needless to say...if there is a Hoarders' Christmas Special, my dining room would make the cut. I'm calling it the Holiday Hurricane of '11.



Ah, you blasted weak coffee, how you torment me!! I had the desire to clean, I had the drive to organize, I had the...urge to sit on the couch and examine my the backs of my eyelids for light leaks. So naptime came and went (although I wasn't able to actually fall asleep myself).



Our afternoon routine never quite came together. The babies napped badly and at different times. Doodlebug cried if I wasn't within arm's reach, or if I turned my back on him. (Incidentally, it is really hard to care for two babies if you must always be facing one of them.) Inchworm, who was transitioning from constipated to severely constipated, began to fuss as well. I juggled babies all afternoon - holding one long enough to stop the crying before moving on to the next one, and then back to the first.



When - starving and on the verge of tears - I finally reached for my lunchtime bowl of soup at 4 PM (which had been sitting on the counter for four hours), I had no idea that there were even better things in store for me.