The side effects of sleep deprivation and preoccupied mama absentmindedness resulted in the following...by the way, I've debated about whether to write about this or not, but I figure at this point next to no one reads this anyhow, so what the heck.
This happened a couple of nights ago...
The Husband, the Baby and I went on a quick trip to the grocery store after dinner so that I could score a couple more bags of Stacy's Cinnamon and Sugar Pita Chips. The Baby was asleep, so the Husband dropped me off at the door and drove around the parking lot. When I came out I looked around, spotted the truck and began to climb inside, when I was startled back to earth by a GIRL in the driver's seat loudly exclaiming "EXCUSE ME" and looking at me like a crazy person. At that point I realize what I've done and am absolutely HORRIFIED. In that moment I was secretly hoping that either a light from the sky would shine down and beam me up or that the ground would crack and I'd be swallowed beneath. Neither of those happened so instead I was left trying to explain to a total stranger why I just tried to get in her car. What exactly do you say in this kind of situation...it went something like "Ah"..."Um"..."I just"..."Sorry" slam the door and walk the other way. FAST. Oh, the horror.
I locate the correct truck, get in and give the Husband a look that says drive out of here like your life depends on it. What does he do instead? Well, in between shaking his head and laughing like a mad man he tells me that he saw the whole thing. Hot tears are now welling up behind my eyes and I know this is a stupid thing to cry about, so I angrily spew "at least you could have honked at me." Yes, because surely it's the Husband's fault that I am a moron.
I don't do things like this, I cannot emphasize this enough. I.Do.Not.Do.Things.Like.This...EVER. Oh and what's even better is that I was riding in the Husband's truck and the one I tried to climb into looked identical to mine.
Apparently I was long overdue for a lesson in humility.
Down with the Sickness
So the baby is sick. This is the first time she has been sick in her 7 months of life, so I guess we should count ourselves lucky. However, after a night of no sleep, lucky is one of the last things I'm feeling today.
I knew this day would eventually come, I just imagined it would happen differently. See, I had visions of a lethargic, snuggly, clingy baby, who I could sit and rock all night and she would peacefully drift off in the arms of her mama as I did MY hardest to nurse her back to health. Yeah, not so much.
Here's the deal. She can't breathe out of her nose, which angers her greatly. She is clinging to me, but has to be in near constant motion or screaming will commence...loud, continuous, shrill awfulness. So the last 18 ish hours have gone something like this. While frantically rocking in a chair or pacing the house with the baby in an upright position, she screams into my ears, repeatedly bangs her head against my shoulder and pounds her little fists into me in fits of rage. Sleep has been scarce and occurs in 15-20 minute increments. Unfortunately her brain is not developed enough to know that her hearty crying is actually producing MORE snot and making the congestion WORSE. I lay her down to suck out her nose with the Nose Frida snot sucker, while she claws at me in protest and starts screaming like a terrified wild banshee as soon as she sees the tube heading for her nose. I pick her up to console her from the great injustice just performed and she sneezes giant globs of snot into my neck. Yes, my neck is sticky, tight and slimy and I would love a shower. I set her down so that I can have two minutes to pee and she continues to scream. I pick her up. I contemplate getting in my car and driving off of a bridge (sans baby). I get a cup of coffee instead. REPEAT.
She has been sleeping for the last hour, but my blasted phone rang and woke her.
good times, good times.
I knew this day would eventually come, I just imagined it would happen differently. See, I had visions of a lethargic, snuggly, clingy baby, who I could sit and rock all night and she would peacefully drift off in the arms of her mama as I did MY hardest to nurse her back to health. Yeah, not so much.
Here's the deal. She can't breathe out of her nose, which angers her greatly. She is clinging to me, but has to be in near constant motion or screaming will commence...loud, continuous, shrill awfulness. So the last 18 ish hours have gone something like this. While frantically rocking in a chair or pacing the house with the baby in an upright position, she screams into my ears, repeatedly bangs her head against my shoulder and pounds her little fists into me in fits of rage. Sleep has been scarce and occurs in 15-20 minute increments. Unfortunately her brain is not developed enough to know that her hearty crying is actually producing MORE snot and making the congestion WORSE. I lay her down to suck out her nose with the Nose Frida snot sucker, while she claws at me in protest and starts screaming like a terrified wild banshee as soon as she sees the tube heading for her nose. I pick her up to console her from the great injustice just performed and she sneezes giant globs of snot into my neck. Yes, my neck is sticky, tight and slimy and I would love a shower. I set her down so that I can have two minutes to pee and she continues to scream. I pick her up. I contemplate getting in my car and driving off of a bridge (sans baby). I get a cup of coffee instead. REPEAT.
She has been sleeping for the last hour, but my blasted phone rang and woke her.
good times, good times.
Food Jag
Okay, so I admit, I go on food jags like toddlers do. I find some food that I love, I eat lots of it often and then after awhile I un-love it...only to find the love again some random day down the road.
So right now I HAVE TO HAVE Stacy's Cinnamon and Sugar Pita Chips. They're like the yummy cinnamon toast of my childhood amped up on steroids and sprinkled with crack. They're so good that I am compelled to tip the bag up to my face to get every.last.piece of goodness, which inevitably results in me getting crumbs in my eyebrows. Sure, it's not the most classy thing to watch me devour a bag like a starving Somali refugee, but then again I've never claimed to be a classy gal.
Oh and if you want some, GO GET YOUR OWN, because I'm not sharing!
So right now I HAVE TO HAVE Stacy's Cinnamon and Sugar Pita Chips. They're like the yummy cinnamon toast of my childhood amped up on steroids and sprinkled with crack. They're so good that I am compelled to tip the bag up to my face to get every.last.piece of goodness, which inevitably results in me getting crumbs in my eyebrows. Sure, it's not the most classy thing to watch me devour a bag like a starving Somali refugee, but then again I've never claimed to be a classy gal.
Oh and if you want some, GO GET YOUR OWN, because I'm not sharing!
The Hardest Thing
Last night one of my friends asked me what the hardest part of mamahood is..."is it the sleep deprivation?" No.
For me the hardest part has been trying to reconnect with that little piece of ME that disappeared the day I birthed my offspring. See, I would be lying if I told you I didn't sometimes long for my pre-baby days as a woman, wife or friend. I still am all of those people, but as soon as that cord was cut I was suddenly morphed into a mama and my identity as a woman, wife and friend became forever changed. I wasn't naive to think that my life was not going to change, but I wasn't prepared for how I would buck at the change instead of embracing it.
Now, let me make it clear that I am not unhappy with my life, AT ALL. I love my baby with a rawness of emotion that I can't put into words. Now, I didn't have many expectations when I became a mama, but what expectations I did have were minimal and simplistic, or so I thought. Like Expectation #1- I will have a baby that will quietly lay swaddled in a crib, looking sweet and angelic...similar to the images I'd conjured up in my head of a contented looking baby Jesus. SHATTERED!! What I got instead was a loud, vocal, positionally challenged baby that either needed to have a boob in her mouth or be held in an upright position next to another human AT.ALL.TIMES...all while being in constant motion. It was more like a circus act than a portrait of contentment. Today she has a fiery spirit, she's intense and opinionated and independent, and her emotions are written all over her face...and she's all MINE, and I wouldn't change an ounce of who she is or who she will become.
Okay so my point is that I do not feel like God put me on this earth solely for the purpose of bearing children. I believe I have been called to do many things. So at this stage of the game my challenge is is to find a way to not become so entangled with my baby that she BECOMES my identity. It's a delicate balance and it's hard. Some day she will be grown and I want there to be a piece of ME left when that happens, instead of a large, gaping hole.
For me the hardest part has been trying to reconnect with that little piece of ME that disappeared the day I birthed my offspring. See, I would be lying if I told you I didn't sometimes long for my pre-baby days as a woman, wife or friend. I still am all of those people, but as soon as that cord was cut I was suddenly morphed into a mama and my identity as a woman, wife and friend became forever changed. I wasn't naive to think that my life was not going to change, but I wasn't prepared for how I would buck at the change instead of embracing it.
Now, let me make it clear that I am not unhappy with my life, AT ALL. I love my baby with a rawness of emotion that I can't put into words. Now, I didn't have many expectations when I became a mama, but what expectations I did have were minimal and simplistic, or so I thought. Like Expectation #1- I will have a baby that will quietly lay swaddled in a crib, looking sweet and angelic...similar to the images I'd conjured up in my head of a contented looking baby Jesus. SHATTERED!! What I got instead was a loud, vocal, positionally challenged baby that either needed to have a boob in her mouth or be held in an upright position next to another human AT.ALL.TIMES...all while being in constant motion. It was more like a circus act than a portrait of contentment. Today she has a fiery spirit, she's intense and opinionated and independent, and her emotions are written all over her face...and she's all MINE, and I wouldn't change an ounce of who she is or who she will become.
Okay so my point is that I do not feel like God put me on this earth solely for the purpose of bearing children. I believe I have been called to do many things. So at this stage of the game my challenge is is to find a way to not become so entangled with my baby that she BECOMES my identity. It's a delicate balance and it's hard. Some day she will be grown and I want there to be a piece of ME left when that happens, instead of a large, gaping hole.
Nervousness
As I sit here contemplating what to write for my very FIRST blog post EVER, I am quickly jolted back to reality. See, I happened to glance over at the quiet baby, who is rarely quiet, to find she has scooted over to a bundle of elctrical cords and computer cables and has one in her mouth...and there you have stellar parenting move of the day #1...or maybe it's #2 or #4, I don't count anymore.
So, "what the heck is egg sha-bam?", you ask. Egg sha-bam is something my sister, D, and I used to concoct. It involved stealing eggs from my granparent's chickens, one of my grandmother's cooking pots, stcks, leaves, acorns and whatever else...all carefully blended together with lots of sisterly giggling.
Life is kind of like egg sha-bam...lots of ingredients stirred together with the end result never the same. Lately for me life has been scraping poop out of my washing machine, trying to identify what food that is smashed into my rugs, avoiding laundry and attending some amazingly awesome births.
-Miss
So, "what the heck is egg sha-bam?", you ask. Egg sha-bam is something my sister, D, and I used to concoct. It involved stealing eggs from my granparent's chickens, one of my grandmother's cooking pots, stcks, leaves, acorns and whatever else...all carefully blended together with lots of sisterly giggling.
Life is kind of like egg sha-bam...lots of ingredients stirred together with the end result never the same. Lately for me life has been scraping poop out of my washing machine, trying to identify what food that is smashed into my rugs, avoiding laundry and attending some amazingly awesome births.
-Miss
this. is. love.
