Yes, I write a public blog about my private life. No, I'm not shy.
The elbow is a vital part of the human physique. Without it's angular bend, we couldn't enjoy tennis, golf, bench pressing.
Or, that all-important middle of the night jab to the husband's ribs or groin.
"Go down put googler (pacifier)," I had been mumbling nightly to Ted just a couple weeks ago. "been down three times. Caaaan't... go... again...."
In roughly five months I think I've slept about 20 hours. Total.
And it's given me Mommybrain, which is so much worse than Preggo brain.
While the latter turned my grey matter into mush, the former makes my mind race through feeding/pooing/sleeping cycles every few minutes. It constantly reminds me not to leave the boy alone in the bathtub, and mocks me if I ever think about myself.
(who am I, again?!)
And this whole lack of sleep thing made me a menace to society. I shouldn't be operating an electric toothbrush let alone a motor vehicle ("I can't believe your husband let's you drive," my mother said recently, her nails digging into the dashboard of my car.)
The NO-Sleeping situation reached a fever pitch a few weeks ago when Huds decided to start waking up every hour and a half.
"What am I doing wrong?!" I sniveled to about 15 moms I don't know that well at the end of a strollerfit class. "Why won't he sleep?!"
Am I letting him fall asleep on his own? Yes.
Am I feeding him to sleep? Not really.
Am I putting him to sleep enough during the day? I DON'T KNOW?!
Am I swaddling him too tight? Too loose? Perhaps.
The books weren't helping either. According to Healthy Sleep Habits Happy Child - I know this is the bible to many - I learned that I'm depriving my child of sleep and turning him into a psychopath and this is all partly because I think women need to work outside the home.
"Would it be horrible if we just stopped for a few minutes?" I asked Ted. "I mean, he IS sleeping."
It was 7:11 p.m. last night - about an hour and 11 minutes past Hudson's bedtime - and the three of us (me, Huds and Ted) were in the car on the way home from my parents house.
It seemed like a fine time to tempt fate.
"I guess so," Ted answered. "We'll circle the block. But be fast."
I dashed. I bought. And found Ted parked at the closest curb. I could tell, even before opening the door, that Hudson didn't appreciate my corner store jaunt (I just NEEDED chocolate, so sue me!).
The boy wasn't happy.
Even though he's a good baby (I'm so lucky, he really doesn't cry a lot), he was pissed off that a) he wasn't in his bed b) he was strapped into the bucket, which he HATES c) this was the second night in a row I've kept him out late and d) he wasn't in his bed (did I mention that already?!)
My heart sank into my feet - it always does when I put my needs before his - as we tucked him into bed while he sniveled and screamed.
But that's just a typical feeling for me now. As a new mom, I am always riddled with guilt.
Guilt when I keep shopping for clothes even though my son is rubbing his eyes in that cute "I'm tired" way.
Guilt when I wake up the boy from his morning nap so we can make our strollerfit class. "You'll sleep in the stroller, won't you my baby?"
Guilt when I don't give Huds enough tummy time. "You were on your tummy yesterday, no? The day before? Yes?"
Guilt that I put him in a dirty sleeper - because coming face to face with another load of laundry might just make me lose my mind.
Guilt when I sit Huds in his bumbo - in front of the TV.
Guilt that I'm eating too little and my milk production might be low (I've started eating the chocolate to remedy this problem. Okay, fine. I just frickin' want chocolate! SUE ME!!).
Guilt that I left him in a poo diaper for a little too long....
Guilt that I've been exposing him to all the germs in my body - [ So, I just learned that I should NOT put the boy's pacifier in my mouth to clean it off after it falls on the floor. I thought I was being altruistic by popping it in my kisser after it fell in the mud, but apparently, my pediatrician says, "your mouth is a sewer! Don't do that!"... Well, you learn something new every day!]
Guilt that I wanted to dash into a corner store past his bedtime.
So when do I ever get to take a moment for myself? Do what I want? Put my needs ahead of his??
"When he's sleeping?" a friend suggested.
"I tried that," I said. "But he woke up. And then he was mad."
"Okay," my friend returned. "Never?"