Restoration

Scott and I had to go shopping for the new house yesterday, which meant taking the first of many trips to Lowe's in Tappahannock. We needed to order kitchen cabinets and purchase fixtures for the plumber. It seemed like a simple enough mission. We headed out around 11 a.m. and stopped at Lowery's for lunch and then continued to the Lowe's cabinet department. Following the typical negotiations that occur when two minds must make one decision, we picked three cabinet styles to price. We then had to sit down with our Lowe's cabinetry sales representative, Dave, who would help us design our kitchen and order the right cabinets all with the help of his trusty computer. The process would take hours, he warned, but the cabinets could take more than a month to be delivered so we wanted to complete the process.
Scott plopped himself on down and began plugging away at measurements with Dave. I felt a little more reluctant about embarking on this process with Sawyer in tow.
To fully understand the situation, you must know that Sawyer has been boycotting sleep during the day this week, which has me a little concerned about my future as a work-from-home mom. He falls asleep in my arms but as soon as I put him down he wakes up and fusses. This pattern continued as we worked with Dave. Sawyer would pass out, I would put him back in the stroller and two minutes later he would start crying. Then one of us would walk around the store attempting to calm him down, he would eventually pass out and the cycle would repeat itself.
To add icing to the cake, Sawyer was spitting up profusely. Every time I fed him, he would return the meal to me, in small portions, for the next half hour. Throughout the day, spit up streamed into every chubby roll under Sawyer's chin, onto his shirt and twice in large quantities onto my designer jeans. He soaked through three onesies and two spit up rags. At one point, as I was trying to calm him down holding him against my chest, he spit up down the front of my tank top - right down the middle. A sticky white river streamed all the way down to my belly button.
And, if you haven't gagged yet, he also blew out of his diapers twice.
Old Dave was a trooper. He plugged along on the computer through all of this, tactfully ignoring the boob, tears and drool. After three hours, I could take it no more. I went to the car to change Sawyer and feed him - I'd already taxed Dave's sensibilities once feeding Sawyer in front of him, I couldn't bring myself to do it again. As I returned, I saw Scott stand up shaking his head. Just as Dave was preparing to print out the pricing, his computer program crashed and he lost everything. He would have to start over from scratch. My head began to buzz from the florescent lights. My tongue went dry. The soda machines were all out of order. Washers, dryers and carpet samples began to swirl together before my eyes. I was in box store hell.
We left Dave to reconstruct the wheel and headed off to plumbing where we spent another three hours picking out a tub, faucets, toilets and sinks. Scott builds houses for a living and deals with customers who must make these kind of decisions on a daily basis but, let me tell you, he was overwhelmed. His head began to swim as I asked him about countertops and floor tile – there is a lot of coordinating to do after all. Everything has to be visualized, preconceived down to the last detail. There are hundreds, no, thousands of decisions to be made, and every one seems monumental.
I finally entered a decision making zone where I just pointed to something and said, Get that, or, I like that one. Our cart started filling up.
By the time we made it to the checkout line we still had only half of the necessary fixtures for the bathrooms and kitchen and no cabinets on order. Sawyer had decided enough was enough and was now fully wailing his most terrifying newborn cry. Some little guy came up to me and said, "In Italy we don't take them out of the house until they are six months old." It took two checkers and three sales associates to get us out the door and loaded up.
Sawyer cried for about 10 minutes (then Sarah Q's magic Hush Baby CD worked its magic and he fell asleep).
Once home, I had to bathe us both to rid us of three inches of slime and spit up. Scott gave him a bottle (our new evening routine in preparation for me working again), and the little guy finally calmed down. I plopped him in his swing around 10:30 and fell into bed.

*******

I woke up with a start. I looked at the clock. It was 3:30 a.m. Scott, I said, waking him up, Sawyer's still asleep (again, guilt about leaving him in the swing.) Check on him, Scott mumbled. I touched Sawyer's cheek. He moved his head and make some squeaky sounds. Oh, now I've woken him I thought. I turned the swing off, ready to pick him up, but stopped myself. Maybe I'll just wait until he cries. I fell back into bed and passed out.
5:30 a.m. I woke with a start again. He's still sleeping! HE SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT!!!
I know not to get too excited about this, because two new-mom friends have reported that this is not a permanent situation. A fluke. A freak occurrence. The stress of ordering cabinets.
I've never felt so rested. He has slept all day! I've finally caught up on laundry and thank you notes and cleaning.
Balance has been restored to the universe, at least for now.