One of those days…

We started night weaning Avery again last night and it was a LONG night. Not too much crying, but she just couldn’t get herself back to sleep without nursing. It was a cranky start to the day at 3am.

I put Avery down for an early nap, but she couldn’t stay sleeping without me by her side. So she napped for an hour (her usual is 2.5 hours). She woke cranky. She also needed help getting her digestive system to clear out, so I gave her a little grab’n’go packet of pureed prunes and I turned my back to get her the rest of her lunch. When I turned back toward her, I saw brown sludge EVERYWHERE. She had squeezed the packet over her head. It covered her clothes, her hair, the chair, and the floor.

While I was cleaning that up I noticed a puddle under fridge. I traced it to a litre of maple sap that froze solid, broke the mason jar it was in, and then thawed in our stupid fridge (it was likely not the fridge’s fault – Avery likes to push the temperature change buttons that are stupidly placed at toddler height on the outside of the fridge.).

So I started sopping up a litre of sugar water from the fridge and floor while Avery screamed and screamed as I pulled her back from climbing in the sticky, wet mess.

In my haste to rinse out towels and cloths and get back to the growing puddle, I knocked an extra big beer bottle off the counter that I had removed from the fridge to wash off. The bottle hit my ankle bone on its way to the ground. The lid popped off and foamy beer went everywhere. My ankle was throbbing and quickly swelling up.

Avery was still screaming, probably because I was swearing and showing a level of frustration that she has never seen in me before. I continued to try to mop up sap AND beer from all over the kitchen while she screamed and tried to climb up my legs.

I then attempted to place the broken mason jar in the garbage and it broke more, slicing my finger. Now I’m bleeding, my ankle is throbbing, and I’m still trying to rinse cloths and wash the sticky off the floor as Avery tries to walk through it, still screaming.

Finally, I quit trying. I took both of our sticky wet socks off, poured myself the remaining beer from the burst open bottle, put Moana on, and sat on the couch with Avery until she calmed down enough for me to start dealing with the rest of the mess.

At some point I’ll get out the mop and properly clean the floors of the prunes, sap, and beer. Maybe. Maybe we’ll live with sticky floors forever.

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