Yesterday was Baby's first birthday, and it was a long day.
At 8:00 a.m., Baby was standing on the changing table (yes, standing), naked as the day he was born (ha!), and refusing to slow down for a clean diaper or any day time clothes.
At 8:01 a.m., Baby peed. Still standing, still naked.
By 8:20 a.m., Baby was dressed in a very cute birthday outfit (thanks to my grandmother for the awesome striped onesie... Baby looked like an adorable baby bumblebee, which completely made up for my pee-soaked shirt).
By 10:30 a.m., I was leading a conference call. Perhaps "leading" is too strong... I was trudging through the mud of the call and waving my arms frantically at the other participants as if to say, "Over here, guys! Oh hey... I'm over here!!"
Then it was 6 p.m., and I was in my office crying because I did not think I was going to make it out in time to see Baby before he went to sleep. About fifteen minutes later, I had the following internal monologue:
Even if I left now, I would only get to see Baby for his sleepiest five minutes, and he will not care one way or another if he sees me for those five minutes.
What am I thinking?