Balancing Act

Jude's out of town, in D.C., this week, so I've been flying solo with John Patrick the past three nights. Today, I got tied up in a case I was mediating and couldn't get away from the office until almost 6 p.m. I had arranged for our nanny, Carley, to meet me in Cool Springs at 5:30 p.m., so John Patrick could get his haircut. Needless to say, I missed the haircut appointment. By the time I arrived, Carley and her husband, Jon, were walking on the sidewalk with John Patrick, whose hair was freshly cut. I felt terrible.

John Patrick and I drove home together. I handed him my Blackberry and glancing over my shoulder, couldn't help but laugh as he stared intently at it, like he was trying to figure out how to make a call. It was dark and as he pressed the buttons on the Blackberry, it lit up, illuminating his face as he smiled contentedly, oblivious to everything around him. It was one of those moments that stays with you.

After we arrived home, I put John Patrick in his high chair and began to feed him dinner. He had eaten some black beans and a couple of mouthfuls of turkey and macaroni when, suddenly, he looked right at me and vomited all over the high chair tray and the front of his shirt. Game on. Carefully, I lifted him out of the high chair, undressed him and began to clean up the mess. I turned around just in time to see him pick up a piece of macaroni off the footrest of his high chair and eat it for the second time, if you know what I mean. Game over.

I lifted John Patrick up, took him upstairs, and gave him a bath. After his bath, we went into the kitchen to finish cleaning up. When I knocked a plate off the counter and watched it shatter on the floor, I gave up. He and I came into the den, read books and played, while he munched on some cheese crumbles and strawberries. Later, I took him to bed.

What a night.