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Kenny’s jet-lag and travel fatigue finally caught up with us today. He woke up too early, too hungry and too grouchy. He had his moments of Most Charming Baby on the Planet, of course, but the bulk of the day was a little hair-raising. It was one of those days where he begged to be held and clung to my legs if I set him down. He was great at the mall when we took a trip to buy him new shoes (which cost as much as the ones I was wearing today), though he ate his way through nearly a box of crackers and a bag of raisins. (At least now he can sign, “More, please” while he says, “Mo’ peas!”) But once we were back home, he was a picture of misery and exhaustion. How can such a picture of delight and perfection turn into such a portrait of gloom??

If I picked him up, he wiggled, if I set him down, he howled. If I read to him, he wanted a snack, but if I fixed him a snack, he threw it on the floor. One of my favorite bloggers, Linda, wrote this a few days ago about her son, who is a few weeks older than Kenny, and she captures much better how a moment in a day like today can be:

“Riley seems to now be in a stage where it’s Highly Annoying to be carried anywhere — unless, of course, he’s in the mood for such an activity and then woe onto you, buster, if you don’t react to those little raised arms and tragic downturned mouth in .3 seconds or less because DOOOOOOOOOOM — and he reacts by twisting his body with a surprising amount of strength and shoving at his captor, usually right in the neck. His body language is loud and clear: put me down or I am going to shoot actual flames from the top of my head and burn your eyesockets, woman.

I couldn’t put him down, though, because we had to cross an icy, slushy parking lot, so I grimly held on to what felt like a thrashing salmon and made the endless trek to a shopping cart, where I then had the delightful challenge of shoving a tantruming toddler with wildly whipping appendages into the seat while simultaneously trying to hiss soothing sounds over his increasingly furious vocalizations, which sounded like a cross between a dying manatee and a bugling elk.”

Yep, that sums it up.

But tonight, after two bedtime tantrums, I went up to his room, again, and scooped him up, sat with him in the rocker, and then instead of trying to sing him to sleep, I just talked to him for awhile. I told him about how much I love him, how special he is to me and that he’s my best little buddy. I told him that I knew that sometimes it was scary to be left alone in a dark room, but that I would be right downstairs, and if he really needed me, he could call me and I’d come right back up. Then I said a prayer out loud for him, asking God to help him to go to sleep and rest his little body. I kissed his sweet buzzed little head and put him in his crib. He looked up at me, smiled his sweet little smile, and rolled over and went to sleep.

Ah. A day redeemed.

Now if only I could finish cleaning the house, folding the laundry, filing mail and packing for the move and still get to bed before it’s tomorrow…