Please let me sleep!

I am so tired.  So tired I thought something was really wrong with me.  I feel like crap.  I almost typed “I feel like carp” which I wish was true.  They are all swimmy and I bet they get to sleep a lot.

My morning routine:

2:00AM V’s “confusional arousal” i.e. crying, yelling “no,” more crying, sitting up confusedly (hence, “confusional”); she does not wake.  I wake up with my heart beating 169 BPM, and wait for it to be over. 

5:30AM V’s morning “sqwak” a shorter confusional arousal, 2-3 times per week. 1 time per week she just wakes up for the day at this time.

5:45 the alarm goes off.  J hits snooze.

5:52 the alarm goes off.  J may or may not hit snooze.

Before 6:00 am J gets up.

The dog gets up.

They leave the room, shutting the door loudly behind them.  I go back to sleep.

The dog comes back and scratches on the door, or alternatively, J comes back and lets the dog in, shutting hte door loudly.  I go back to sleep.

J comes back.  Loudly.  I cringe and try to go back to sleep.  I try not to curse at him.

J knocks over a side table, or pulls down the curtains, or trips on some singing toy, which then sings for approximately 45 seconds.  Loudly.   And he turns on the light.  And gets dressed.  Not necessarily in that order.

J leaves, shutting the door loudly.  I go back to sleep.

J leaves the house, shutting the door loudly.  I try to go back to sleep.

V wakes up.  I wake up, if I actually got back to sleep.

I curse the world.

I wish I was in a  coma so I could actually sleep.

I drag myself out of bed and try to find a toothbrush, or if I am feeling extra fancy, a shower.

I try to find some clothes that have seen a dry cleaner in the past month.  Alternatively, I try to find some clothes that don’t have speghetti sauce on them.

V yells “moooommmmaaaa!  daaaadddy!!! woooffooooos!” from her crib while I get dressed.

I then commence struggling with V about diaper changing, dressing, whether I have a magical sippy cup of juice that she seems to think I can produce out of thin air, where her shoes are, whether she will hold still for pigtails, whether I can clean the litter box without putting her down, whether I can handle a full galon of milk without putting her down, whether I can do my hair or makeup without putting her down, whether I can load or unload the dishwasher wihtout putting her down, whether I can start dinner without putting her down,, etc.

And then we say bye to Woofles, and kitty, and daddy (because I think she thinks daddy is just hiding behind the couch or something during all of this) and if there is a schoolbus outside we say bye to the bus.

And I forget my dry cleaning, and forget to turn on the crock pot, and wonder if I put the dog gate up.  And prepare to miss the heck out of her for the rest of the day.

A funny thing

A funny thing happened while I wasn’t paying attention.  I stopped caring about what other people think of my parenting. 

Now if you’ve known me for a while, especially before the whole law school disaster, you might think of me as a confident, independent person who forges ahead despite other people’s opinion of what I should be doing or not doing. 

Well, at least, that’s how I think of that version of me. 

Law school took that out of me for a bit.  I was crushed into a bitter pulp, but thankfully recovered.

And then I had a damn baby. 

For some reason, having that damn baby took every bit of confidence, independence, and forge-aheadness from me and left me worrying about what some idealized random ass suburban stay at home soccer mom  thought about my parenting. 

Logically I knew that I had nothing in common with that amourphous idea of The Mom that I had created; not socially, not socio-economically, no common experiences to speak of - not anything except the fact that I had a damn baby. I have never met her, and probably never will (though I think I see her in the mall all the time).  Despite knowing that it was completely illogical, I really felt inferior to The Mom idea that I invented somewhere in the sleep-deprived state of new motherhood.

Thank God for good friends, and pills, and sociological statistical analysis.  With those and a lot of time I got myself back to the place I have wanted to be  - knowing that whatever I do will be fine and it doesn’t matter what the hell anyone else thinks -not even that 90-pound, well-dressed soccer mom who gave the side-eyed look to my uncombed hair and my stained, bruised and cat-scratched daughter.

And that is freedom.

Sprinting

I feel like I have been sprinting (or at least, jogging at a good clip) at work since October.  Three years after I started I finally had one of my cases go to trial, and then another, and another.  I actually only got to second chair one of those (the big one) and helped prep the others and I decided it was more stressful sitting back at the office wondering what the heck was happening in court than actually being in court watching it all go down.  And then you have the holidays, and some idiot wrecked my car, and the dog surgery.

And it’s wrestling season. 

And despite all that, 20 months later, we have finally gotten into a rhythm with our family…mostly.  I know several people who are about ready to pop out babies and start all over with an infant and the thought of that has me shaking in my boots.  Maternity leave (all unpaid) cost me so much money I don’t know how I could afford to do it again.  And if I did, I would definitely want to take all 12 weeks…more money.  And then there’s more daycare and diapers and formula and time. 

Time. 

Where am I gonna get that?  Time is always in short supply. I get home at six, fix dinner, eat dinner, and then almost right away it’s bathtime, and pajama time, and bedtime. On the weekends I only leave when she is asleep.  I try to pack chores and errands into naptime and save housework until after bedtime.  I try not to waste a minute that I could be spending with V, and it is still never enough time.  I want more.  I’m sad to put her to bed.  I want to hang out and play and laugh.  I’m sad to take her to daycare.  I want to take her to the zoo instead. 

How am I gonna get more time?

The Early Talker

Violet has never been a morning person. Indeed, neither have I. The drive to daycare is often…difficult.

It starts with “Mommy” about 20-100 times. Through trial and error I have learned that when I answer her, she cries. Or she whines. Or she screams. I have no idea why. So, I usually ignore it and rise to the bait only once or twice per drive, rather than have her whine at a dog-whistle pitch the whole way.

But now that she is starting to talk I see the writing on the wall.

On our way to daycare a couple weeks ago, after what was actually a really good morning, screaming wise, we have this conversation:

V: Mommy. Mommy. MOmmy. Momyyyyyy.
Mommy.
…
Mommy.
Mommy.
Mommy.
Me: Yes Violet?
V: I want daddy.
Me: (Sigh. Better than screaming, I think.)

Two minutes later…

V: Mommy. Mommy. Mooooommmy. Mommy.
Me: Violet. Violet. Violet.
V: I want daddy.
Me: I am aware.

It’s good she’s learning sentances, though, right?

Unanswered Questions

Life with a toddler is often just a series of questions that never get answered.  What’s in your mouth? Where did you get that!? What…did…you…do?  Here are some of my recent favorites:

Why is there a pistacio in my wallet?

Did you just kick the dog?

Dear God, what is in your hair?

Why is there a carrot in the bathroom sink?

Where did you find my library card?

You didn’t just dip that in the toilet, did you?

Do you have to be so contrary?

Is that a rice noodle in your pigtail?

Can you please take your fingers out of my nose? Mouth? Ears? Eyes?

The most important question of all is this:  Why do I keep asking questions when I know I will not get a satisfactory answer? 

That’s just messed up.

Sometime when work settles down, I will get back to blogging more, but for now I will just say…

Someone recently told me that, after we visited with V, they used V as an illustration of why to not have a baby.

It’s been a while…

Wow, it has been a long time since I was on here last. Between Christmas, trial settings and general insanity I’ve been neglecting my duties as a blogger, but no more.

V had a great Christmas. She loved opening gifts – hers, mine, daddy’s and everyone else’s. She loved playing with new toys. She loved running around and around and around to show off for people.

She did not love getting off schedule, so she has reverted back to her poor poor sleeping habits of yester-months. I guess I will finally be able to sleep through the night when she is in college.

I hope to soon be back to writing down the minutia that makes being a toddler’s mom so much fun.