today I yelled at Lilly

Today I yelled at Lilly, and I feel terrible, so ashamed! It's never happened before and I dread it ever happening again. We had actually had a pretty good morning, she got up with a smile, despite her cough and still some snot, and today I woke up with a sore throat too. But we had a fine time over breakfast, we played, watched Baby Einstein (she's getting so good at identifying and mimicking the sounds of animals! and pointing at her nose and ears etc., repeating "nose" along with the DVD). I sorted laundry, showered, and then it's time for action. Lilly is typically eager to leave the house by 9:30 or 10; today there was no event at the library (because of Halloween), but I figured we'd bundle up for a walk, do an errand downtown.

But then we tried too much at the end: Leighton wanted to Skype at 10, Lilly laughed and waved at him at first, but then got upset when I wouldn't let her bang at the keyboard, and she doesn't like it when we (he and I) talk, she wants it to be with her, too, which of course makes sense! Leighton was reluctant to hang up, he had lots to share and misses his girls (and of course we miss him too!). He was in tears as we hung up, which also makes me feel terrible. But now it was close to 10:20 and Lilly was getting very antsy. So. On with the clothes (this is never fun), it was cold, so I decided we needed to put her boots on. Which were terribly muddy from last weekend at the orchard. So I wanted to clean them real quick. Not to Lilly's agreement. At this point she's crying, screaming, not just whining. I explain, in Norwegian, that I just have to clean her boots real quick and then we'll get going. She points to the door, kicks her legs into the floor, wants out now! And so then I yell, you just have to wait a little bit, and then we'll go out! Of course, she only starts bawling from this. And then I remember that anguish, when my mom yelled at me when I was a child, how the world just stopped making sense at that point.

So I took her in my arms, went into her bedroom, sat and rocked her on the bed, nursed her, lied down with her and nursed her some more. She was soon happy again and excited when I said we'll go out now and her happiness mostly lasted till we were out of the house (interspersed with some spouts of whining as I had to go wash my hands to get the mud of, get my scarf and hat from the closet, etc.)

Then we leave the house, she's so happy walking my purse to the stroller, sits down happily, it's freaking windy and cold, but we're dressed for it. The sun's peeking through. At the coffee shop, our destination to pick up more coffee, it's super crowded, people pressing ahead in line. Lilly wants up, but it goes ok. We leave the shop, she has to squint against the sun in the stroller on the way back, the shade doesn't go down far enough. And then, just as we're two blocks from the house, her head falls to the side, she's falling asleep. This cannot happen!! Then she will not have a nap (she magically has this only one chance to fall asleep for a nap, I don't get it. And she won't be transported to bed from stroller or car seat if she falls asleep there). So I lift her up into my arms and she cries. At this point I feel like the worst mom ever.

We make it to the house and now she's so happy again to be home. I want to see if she can eat some food, some lunch, before she sleeps (this is risky business to try: she hasn't shown much interest in solids lately, though she did eat quite a bit of the tilapia we had for dinner last night--we have fish for dinner every Friday, it's fresh at the Co-op then. But she did actually end up eating quite a bit of cheese and turkey for lunch today and even some orange. Typically she only has fun saying, 'appelsin.' But now she ate it too).

So, then it's time to try and see if she'll sleep. It's noon, she's been going down around 11:30 lately, maybe she missed her window on Thursday, when we had the ladies luncheon here from eleven til one thirty, I don't want that to happen again. She's yawning, so clearly tired. But struggles to surrender to sleep. I leave the room twice in despair. By 12:40 she's sleeping, beautifully, at my breast. She is the most precious child in the world, I just have to kiss her, though I don't want to wake her. I kiss her cheek and stroke her head, she sleeps so peacefully. Our little Lilly, delicate in appearance, yet strong and enduring.