Recovery

So Sunday she was fine, Monday she was fine, and Tuesday I stepped out of the shower to find her bolt upright in bed, screaming her head off, with a lap full of Monday night's dinner. Oh, well, I guess I didn't need to go to Lexington with a friend that much anyway. grumble

So we're back on the recovery bandwagon again, having limited her to corn Chex and 7-Up yesterday, the kid's been famished today. She keeps coming up to me with random items out of the pantry and saying, "Icky oo?" which I finally translated as "chicken soup?" I guess she liked the little bit she got yesterday, because the kid's been begging for it all day. I broke down and bought another can when we went to Kroger today, which probably means she'll never want to eat it again.

We're working through an unpleasant phase right now, and if one of our friends with a slightly older child hadn't been through the exact same thing when her daughter was Liza's age, I'd be starting to take it personally. The kid will not nap some days. She's exhausted, to the point where she's literally falling over for no reason, but she bounces out of her bed like she's got springs on her butt. She has spent the last FOUR HOURS puttering around the house with me, playing quietly with her toys and only interacting with me to ask for more food or to help her reach her balloon.

Not so bad today, only I've purposely been doing stuff that's boring and I don't mind interrupting (like cleaning out the floor of the pantry - woo hoo! party!), and I've got a whole list of more interesting stuff I kinda need to be doing. Lazy Mama projects to sew, taxes to work on, serious basement cleaning that needs to be tackled, furniture to refinish.

Life comes to a standstill around here when the kiddo doesn't sleep, and the lack of productivity really grates on my nerves. Combine that with the terrible two's stuff she's starting (Juice! Juice! Juice! NOOOOOO! No juice! No juice! AAHHHH! Juice! Juice!), and I'm hanging by a thread. Luckily, the weather has been warmer the last few days, so I've been able to throw her in the stroller and take a walk. Nothing like fresh air to calm the infanticide (toddlercide?) urges, at least temporarily.

Of course, now that I'm typing, she's hanging off of my arm and trying to bang on the keyboard, so I suppose I'll have to finish this later.