She's also taking the bottle grudgingly. I went back to work out of the house this week, which means she doesn't have much of a choice. It's sort of sad, but at the same time, I'm so, so glad that Ian is the one handling it. He is, the Baby Master.
I came home after a long day in Seattle (my second day), made even longer by my boss forcing me to go to dinner to debrief on the day, and aside from Ian being completely furious at me for not calling, the kids were all tucked into their beds and sound asleep (Violet too!). I hate to think of the state I would have been in, had roles been reversed (picture all three kids in various stages of breakdowns, screaming, tears, and me in the kitchen crouched behind the baby gate with a bottle, and I'm not talking about one with milk).
But that's me. Me, who drives halfway to Bellevue and realizes that I forgot my driving directions back on my desk in Olympia. Me, who leaves my ATM card in the machine and drives off. Oh and that's just one day.
Yep. That's me.
Meanwhile Ian is stuck at home with no car, a screaming two-year-old, and stubborn hungry baby that won't drink a bottle.
I'm pretty sure that qualifies him for sainthood.
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