I try not to complain too much about them. My kids are cute. They say cute things. They love me. They’re healthy. I adore them. I would travel the ends of the planet to assure they’re safety and happiness.
Hands down the best thing that has ever happened to me in my life has been becoming a mom.
I think lack of sleep turns that nice, rational thinking, loving Mom into an irritable mess. I should be bigger than my three year old. Lately she has reverted to getting up 3 – 5 times a night. I wake to her breathing at my bed side while tugging on her shirt. Do you know what she wants every time? To be covered up again. She knows how to do it. We both know this. She wants ME to cover her up again. I have done it nicely and asked her to please stay in bed now. I have threatened her. I have talked harshly. I have begged. I have not screamed or slapped her or pushed her…though at times that thought offers temporary satisfaction. The good Mom deep down holds me back. That and the fear of prison time. That’s all.
Laina was the last one to bed last night and the first one up this morning. Irritable as ever. Crying first thing in the morning. Who needs the sweet sound of robins at dawn when you could have the lovely creature you call daughter crying her own sweet tune? It doesn’t matter what she’s done today or how sweet she can manage to be, I still look at her like “why don’t you just stay in your freaking bed at night you sleep stealing monster!?!”
She was the last one down for a nap today and the first one up. GAWWWWD!!! When does this end. When she got up I jumped up and put her back in bed. Three times. She stays put for no more than 45 seconds before coming back out and I’m too tired to jump up. And I don’t want to start a fight that will entail screaming and could possibly wake the other eight children in the house.
So she gets to sit on the couch with me and watch Spongebob and I get to keep saying “Ssh” to her. Because she doesn’t want to watch Spongebob she wants to watch Clifford which is not on.
F*ck you Clifford.
Then Maile gets up and whispers over to me, “Mom, can I get up now??”