Ok, first of all, I was too tired to watch "The Hills" last night. It wasn't that I was totally asleep, I just couldn't focus enough to even change the channel. Depressing. Anyway, I want to say something here, and I want to assure you it's going to be followed up by a very joyful and uplifting post (with pictures) that I will work on a little later.

I want to talk about the whole being a mother thing again, particularly being a stay-at-home mother. And how...it's hard. I know. I totally know, I already talked about that. But I want to assure you guys that I'm not bringing it up to complain and get sympathy.

The reason I bring it up is because I distinctly remember saying to someone once, "What do stay-at-home moms do, anyway? Shop all day?"

So that's why I have to bring it up again. To squelch any chance that anyone I know will ever say anything as asinine as that.

Let me tell you about my morning.

Nora had a cold last week, not a bad one but we stayed home from most of our activities to avoid getting other kids sick. So I was anxious to return to the regular schedule. While she's still got a runny nose, I think due to a bad case of teething, Nora is currently feeling great and the fall weather up here is perfect for outings.

We go to Toddler Tunes most Wednesdays, where a very nice man sings cute songs and all the moms and babies sing and dance along. Nora loves it, but so do I, because I get to see my friends and get out of the house. But also, it's just part of our schedule now, the rough schedule that helps keep me from going crazy and gives just the right amount of structure to our week.

Nora's gone through stages with her sleeping schedule, as all babies do, but I must say we really lucky. We have a GREAT sleeper. She sleeps like a champ at night, and except for a few rough patches, has taken two two-hour naps a day like clockwork. She barely ever cries in general, and almost never cries when we put her down for bed.

Unfortunately, I would have to put this week, so far, in the "rough patches" category.

The three times I tried to put her down for a nap this morning, Nora let me know my actions were not appropriate with excessive wailing. And snot. Snot and tears wiped all over her face and then embracing me around my neck with a death grip when I'd go in to see if maybe, just maybe, the planned nap wasn't exactly working out. Which, you know, it wasn't.

This is what my exhausted-but-not-willing-to-sleep child and I did instead. Nora played with toys on the floor while I tried to write a couple emails. Nora played with various bottles and cups in the bathroom while I ran - lightning speed - downstairs with a full laundry basket of dirty clothes, my hope that by getting it on the first floor and closer to the washing machine, I'd get it done that day. Nora played with the bag of to-be-recycled newspaper while I did the dishes, interrupted frequently by her mad dashes to the dog food bowls, where she likes to fully immerse her arms in their drinking water and splash around. Nora pulled all the books off the bookshelf, and I let her, because this resulted in my successfully writing a few emails. I had to pee, Nora came with, rushing over to partake in the flushing of the toilet when I was done and then attempting to put her hands in the toilet water (another favorite pastime). I've learned to flush and put the top down in one fell swoop, thus deterring her. More snot. Wiping of Nora's face as she screamed. I ate a granola bar in secret behind a pillow while she played, so she wouldn't see said granola bar and demand it. I called my parents, and just as they answered saw that my now very sleepy child had fallen from where she'd been standing at her toy basket onto the floor. I pick her up, and she presses all the keys on the phone. I then took her upstairs for a diaper change, while talking to my mother. Nora hates diaper changes so I have novel distractions at the ready. A CD case. A tube of diaper cream. We make it through. Back downstairs, and I let her pull more books off the shelves while I get the diaper bag ready. She goes for the dog bowls again. She is QUICK. I save her in time, buckle her into the car then run back into the house to retrieve the stroller...and the wipes, I forgot the wipes. Ok, we are good to go. I pull out of the driveway and onto the road, I am so looking forward to a morning out of the house, talking to adults. I look back and she is asleep. We have been in the car all of three seconds, and Nora has fallen fast asleep. I drive down Townsend Avenue, weighing my options. We can go and I can wake up this cranky child when we get there. We can stick to the plan.

Or, I can admit that I have no control. I can admit that Nora's rest is more important, turn around and come home, which is what I did, then carried my warm, sleeping child up to her bedroom, where she is now taking a much needed nap.

I will have to admit that, try as I may to avoid it, when my husband comes home from work and tells me about interactions with coworkers and the bacteria he looked at under the microscope, my offering to the discussion will revolve more around how I found a baby booger in my hair. Then maybe I will pour myself a glass of wine and think about how much I deserve it, which is, I must also admit, a very good feeling.