The day started at 4:30am (again) with A screaming his face off because, well, just because. He had been up 3 other times during the night. Obviously one wakes up the other, and it was only a matter of time before O was wide awake and kicking away in her crib, impatiently waiting for someone to come get her. Luckily I have a husband who takes over on weekends. But nothing truly blocks out the screaming cries of a baby when he’s royally pissed off. Days like these feel like someone woke me up from a beautiful, deep sleep by lighting me on fire with a blow torch. No time to pee, make coffee, brush my teeth, or do anything to make me remotely resemble a human being. Its straight to damage control.
Here’s a bit of background on A. He’s a silent reflux baby. At 5 months old Ive been told he will grow out of it soon enough. Soon enough? Meanwhile, the kids spitting up on everyone and everything all day long. The dog included. Its a running gag when people come to visit, they bring a change of clothes. (Or don’t visit at all)
Not to mention the constant crying, screaming, whimpering, fussing about like I ruined his life by birthing him. Wont be held, can’t be put down, won’t sit – god dammit kid, aren’t you fed up of being so miserable? But my lord is he ever cute, and thank God for that!
My soul yearns to go back to those selfish Sundays. Is that so horrible to say? I love these littles to pieces, but had I truly been prepared for what motherhood had in store for me, perhaps I would have done things a little differently. Enjoyed that hot coffee, stayed in bed a little longer, made more plans, or less, depending on the day. Invested more of myself to my marriage and would have fully embraced the concept of just “us”. Hindsight, am I right?
So for now I will get on with this day. One foot in front of the other, all with one goal in mind: Keep the littles alive and my sanity intact.
Happy Sunday all!