I was a frazzled parent

My task Monday was to "babysit" my 9-month old son, Noah, while his mother went to work, and while his grandmother got a well-deserved day off to do whatever it is she wanted to do.

Since his mother and I have been separated since October, I've gone down to visit Noah every two weeks, and every two months, Nancy brings Noah to Fort Worth. So I have changed dozens of diapers, prepared many a bottle, and coddled many a colicky cry. In January I babysat him for a few hours while his mother worked.

But this would be different. In January, Noah couldn't crawl. You put him in the middle of the floor and needed a second to pour yourself a cup of coffee and when you got back, he was still in the middle of the floor. Monday, I knew if I did that, I might get back and Noah would have crawled under the bed or something.

And I didn't help myself early on. Sunday night, I picked up takeout for everyone and while they were taking sooooooo long with the hamburgers, I drank a margarita. And then back at Nancy's I drank two glasses of Boarding Pass Shiraz with my meal. So when Noah woke up at 7:30 Monday morning, I had a slight hangover.

But he wanted to eat. Now. And he wanted to play. Now. So I dragged myself out of bed gave him a bottle, changed his diaper, and then got on the floor to play with him. I entertained him with blocks and balls and books and things that made squeaky sounds. Every once in a while, I got a sneak peak at Sportscenter reruns. At about 10:30, Noah's grandmother took him so I could go to Starbucks.

And let me tell you. I was bushed. I prayed that every light would be red, and that they'd be out of Pike Place Roast. I know this sounds bad, but I needed all the time I could get to catch my breath. So I was a little relieved when I got back to Nancy's and Noah was asleep.

I drank my coffee. Read my newspapers. And when he woke up an hour later, I was feeling a lot better and more energized. His grandmother left me and him alone around 12:30, but things went great after that.

When he fell asleep in my arms at about 2 (he doesn't know yet that I have the energy of a runner _ I basically ran his little cute ass ragged) I figured I should stick to the schedule which called for him to get a bottle. So I strapped him in his little seat and started preparing his food. But he started crying like crazy. So I put him down and he slept for nearly two hours.

I fed him when he woke up. Nancy got home a few minutes later. And my day was done, so to speak.

I've already blogged here often that I think Nancy is a great mother. Moms don't get nearly enough credit.

I's a tough job and I salute the mommies of the other blogs I read, namely, Allynson over at My-momologues and the blogger over at Ms. Single Mamma.

When you have been living by yourself for months and months and then all of a sudden you're in charge of a 9-month old. All. By Your. Self. It can be scary.

But there were no exploding diapers. No crying that wouldnt stop.

I got through it. We got through it. No broken bones. Or broken anything else.

I can't wait to do it again.