Karma, that little vindictive sprite that she is, thought I was a little to braggish about my mad skills as a breastfeeder earlier and so follows the last 3 hours of my life:
On my way home from Zabars, I had to stop at ATM to get tip money for Fresh Direct delivery guys but Grif decided he'd been in the car seat long enough and so began a complete emotional breakdown. Then I remembered we need C batteries like a crackfix because all of his toys take C batteries and are all laying in a pile not working right now which is no good for mommy's sanity, so I went from the ATM to the Hallmark store, screaming baby in tow. Finally, I returned home with two huge bags of food from Zabar's which I had to carry up the 18,000 stairs that lead to our apartment, while still ignoring the screaming baby (like hell I was going to let my cheese spoil and my pasta thaw in the car, I mean really?). I finally fed the hyena and he calmed down. I started cooking dinner, but Fresh Direct arrived right in the middle therefore causing me to stop everything to put away the groceries - ugh. Groceries away and dinner ready, I sit down to eat but the dog is digging a trench in the floor in front of the door pacing back and forth. So I think I'll just grab the baby, throw him in the sling, and take the dog out. Commence baby break down #16 for the day and here's me running down the steps, baby screaming in sling, dog in tow and NO SHOES ON. Because why wouldn't I want glass macerating my feet while walking down the sidewalk with a screaming child? Of course!
And cut to Grant walking in the door to find me slugging down the Grey Goose like Lindsey Lohan.