Grandma to the rescue

This morning I screamed at Zoe because we were late for daycare (very late) and she needed her diaper changed but wouldn't lie still, probably because her tummy hurt. It was yet another stressful morning where she woke up late after having been awake for the two neat hours between 2am and 4am, like the other nights, leaving me a zombie when my alarm went off at 6.45am. Experiencing one of the low points of my 19 months of motherhood, I lost my temper with her in desperation to get her to lie still, but oddly enough she didn't get scared, she didn't cry harder. She just looked at me with a puzzled look, wondering why I was yelling so loud when she was right there. We eventually managed to get out the door and walk the extra blocks to another subway entrance where the elevator was surely working, opposite our local entrance where the elevator had been out of order for two days. After dropping off a crying tired toddler, I had to compose myself in front of the daycare director when I passed by her office on my way out, but burst out crying as soon as I had the front door to the daycare behind me. On my way to work, after having collected myself I called my mom with the pretense to ask how the Lucia dress was going. She asked how Zoe was and I started sobbing again. "I don't know how I am going to manage, she doesn't sleep at night and she is still not eating much. Mark is coming back Sunday but until then I am just on my own". My mom paused. "Do you want me to go and get a plane ticket to come up there", she said inquisitively. "Yes", I whined. And this is why grandma is coming on the first plane to Stockholm tomorrow, with a Lucia dress size 86 and a roll of marzipan (a Danish Christmas delight).