How Things Change

I remember a very long time ago when we had a baby and I was worried that Robbie was going to say inappropriate words in front of it. I was also concerned about food additives and a whole host of other things that I no longer have the time or energy to care about, like whether or not it was okay for my child to breathe in the fumes from Clorox Wipes and what was actually in baby formula.

Fast-forward to 5:00 this morning when our third child climbed into our bed, alerting me by repeated bludgeoning to the head and face, and I flung my arm over to hit my sleeping husband.

“Pepper’s in our bed,” I mumbled, as her knee dug into my gut.

Nothing.

“PEPPER’S IN HERE,” I repeated. Now she was pulling on the sheets, attempting to smother me to death with her battered sheep lovey.

Nothing.

He wouldn’t take his CPAP (Continuous Positive Airway Pressure) mask off, which is pretty much a passive aggressive way of saying fuck you, I’m not dealing with it. I’m basically blind and deaf at night; I have terrible eyesight without my contacts or glasses, and I’ve been wearing earplugs for over a decade, so I’m familiar with passive aggressive ways to pretend to not know something is going on. I am well versed in it. Also, I have sleep issues, and that makes me difficult to deal with.

Okay, fine. It makes me a raging bitch.

Once someone shakes me from deep, precious slumber, it can take me literally an hour to fall back asleep, and even once I do finally konk out again, the quality always sucks from that point forward.

What was that? Did you just ask why?

Because I lie there and my mind starts racing thinking of all the things I need to remember to do in three hours when my alarm goes off, and then I start wondering what I forgot to put on my mental to-do list, becoming angry at myself for not setting the coffeemaker to turn on by itself at 6 a.m. because I AM NOT GOING TO FEEL LIKE MAKING IT AFTER MISSING THIS MUCH SLEEP, and the anxieties just spiral off from there like tiny insomniac tornadoes.

So, back to the child that was poking me in the face: once I realized that I was going to have to put her back in her bed, I yelled, “FUCK, FINE, I’LL DO IT.” So much for worrying about my husband’s mouth in front of our kids.

And that is how much things change between the first and third-born child.

Bedtime

I can’t be mad at this cutie pie.

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6 thoughts on “How Things Change

  1. Once upon a time I had a 3 year old and a newborn, and I was sleep deprived and depressed. It was late on a rainy Friday night, 3 year old wanders into the room with a popcorn kernel lodged in her nose. i couldn’t think how to get it out. I asked her in frustration, how did that get up your nose!? She said it FELL up there. I didn’t think. Just yelled “fuck you, it did not!!!” That was my first confirmed bad parenting moment. Not the last. But they make good stories later…… Good luck with yours!

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  2. LMAO. When my little Sami was born, I was always catching myself swearing. 8 years later? Yeah, not so much. Although, I probably should now since she is going to catch on soon.

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  3. Your sleep habits sound similar to my wife’s. Hence the reason I’m the who has to get up in the middle of tdhe night to tend ro the kids when they holler. Just because I can get back to sleep in seconds/minutes… and you can be mad at that cutie pie, just not for very long 🙂

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  4. Pingback: Sunday Share 28 | All In A Dad's Work

  5. My 3 yo has taken to yelling “DAMN!” while dancing around the house. I asked her where she heard that word and my husband sort of sheepishly looks up. The reason I asked is because I never use that word….I am more partial to the F Bomb and I drop it quite on the regular in traffic with her in the car. But I wasn’t going to tell HIM that, especially since it was his not as impressive swear word she’s caught on to. So I commenced on a lecture about appropriate language. Let’s just hope the F Bomb proves to difficult for her to pronounce…

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  6. Aarrrgh! I am exactly the same with sleep, feeling ur pain. And since hubs works really weird hours it’s mostly me having to deal with it. And I hate dealing with anyting or anyone before coffee! Don’t be to harsh on Robbie, men seriously have better tune-out powers :))) it’s in their DNA.

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