I had a dream…or a nightmare.
I was told by my best friend that I must blog about this.
HER: Did you have a bad night?
ME: Put it this way, I was having a nightmare that I was dying and when I woke up I was bummed.
This sounds extreme and probably insincere considering I am blessed to be in good health, but at the time, the evening of what seemed like my children’s form of water boarding, was far worse than my passing into the otherworld.
It went (BTW I just spelled went, w-e-a-n-t, mommy brain is in effect) like this:
10pm: fell asleep with untouched Kindle on stomach.
10:30pm husband comes into bed and removes untouched Kindle. Most likely, looks at me snoring in my flannels and unwashed hair wondering if he will ever get laid again, or find me attractive enough to do so.
12am: Austin, our nineteen month old, begins to wail. I go into his room and sit in the big white rocker that has become my second bed, and wait for him to fall back asleep.
12:25: return to my bed.
12:28: our 3 month old begins to cry. I go into her room and try to get her back to sleep without the boob. Give in and give her a boob for a while. Rock her back to sleep on hard wicker chair (can’t afford another cushy glider (why are they so expensive?????) and our son would drop his 30 lb. ball on her head if he were to discover his chair in her room). After I get her back to sleep and my neck is stuck in a sideways position, I head back to bed.
1am: Back in bed. Can’t fall back to sleep due to stupid thoughts in head. When will we afford to repaint the bedroom? Was that a cry? Does Botox leak into breast milk? Was that a cry? Can you take two pills a day for double insurance? Was that a cry? How old will I be when my son is 35?
1:45: fell back asleep, I think.
2:15 baby crying again. Decide she is not hungry and wonder if I should let her cry it out. Decide to do Ferber method by going in every five minutes. After five minutes she is still crying but I physically can’t get out of bed. Baby cries it out for fifteen minutes, as I lie in bed promising to turn myself in to child services the next day. I am about as unfit to be a mother as a high school burn out.
2:35: Austin wakes up screaming. Would let him cry it out but then I wouldn’t be able to sleep ever. Send my husband in this time. Fall asleep.
4:45: Have nightmare that I am dying. Wake up to Austin crying. Am bummed to be out of nightmare. Husband and I collectively decide to let him cry it out.
4:45-6:15am: Austin screams. My husband and I put numerous pillows over our heads. Husband tries to grab my hand, but I feel I might claw him to death. Wonder why I feel this way. I love my husband but at that moment maybe I felt it was his tenderness that god us into this mess in the first place. No touch!!!
6:15am: Austin passes out.
7am: Vera wakes up. Drag myself downstairs with the migraine of a blast victim. Put bottle on and pop two advil.
I could timeline the rest of my day, but then those without children who read this post will never have any. I keep telling my best friend who doesn’t have children, if she ever wants to, do not come and visit me for several years. Unfortunately, she didn’t heed my warning, when a couple weekends ago found her in a maelstrom of baby meltdowns. See, when one of my babies (yes, I am the retard who spaced them sixteen months apart. Good idea!) cries the other one ALWAYS starts in. So, when there is an actual meltdown (those of you who are parents out there know what I mean by meltdown. And those of you with “high spirited” children know how meltdowns in my house go) the meltdowns are in a melodious union. Oh how it stiffens a spine, locks a jaw, and adds an inch to a frown line. All of which I have acquired since childbirth. In fact, I think I have whittled my molars down to nubs in my sleep (if you can call it that). I digress.
I really didn’t want my first post (well, not really my first, I’ve had other blogs by different aliases, but somehow never got around to writing more than one entry. Not surprising since I rarely have time to shower since my first born). I wanted this post to be uplifting. Something “Real Simple” would publish. Something that makes a heart warm at the end. Maybe next time. I’m getting my ass kicked, as my BF said to me. Well put, my friend, well put.
Stupid thing I did of the week: bought 25 dollar leave-in conditioner. Aside from the fact that anything put in my hair over the price of $5 is a waste of money since my mom-do almost always ends up with a headband holding greasy wisps of hair back. But the real dumb-ass thing about buying this product was the fact that it’s “leave-in.” I can bet my first born that I will NEVER leave this in. Who has time to use leave-in conditioner in the first place. I don’t think I ever used it before I had kids. If it were really just leave-in and not rinse out, then I could swing it, maybe, but the process is actually leave-in for 15 minutes (do you know what can happen in my household in fifteen minutes?) then rinse out. Meaning you must either 1)get back in the shower or 2)have a sink big enough to rinse out your hair in. No and no. Besides my weekly shower average is looking like a peace sign. End of story.
Baby is crying…can’t wait to go to bed tonight. When I crawl into bed, I feel like a POW. Bon nuit!
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