Kiddie Ambien
Posted by admin | Filed under Motherhood, Preschoolers, parenting, sleep
I know what you’re thinking: WHAT? WHERE? Do I need a prescription??? If so, can I use my meth lab to make some?
Relax. It’s Children’s Benadryl. God, I love that shit.
Anyone who has a three-year-old will agree with me, I promise. Because bedtime has become a horrible, terrible, drawn-out nightmare that won’t end, even when I go to bed myself. I have never seen a human being fight sleep so vehemently, so desperately. It’s one of God’s little jokes: Just when you get to an age where sleep is this heavenly escape from the daily grind, you have a baby. And that baby sleeps poorly at first, then really well, then… becomes a three-year-old, this demonic, sleepless, talking thing that won’t shut up. Ever. I’ve had to shut the door while Nora was mid-sentence, talking about every single thing she has ever learned in her short life. It’s constant, nonsensical, and will drive you mad if you listen to it long enough.
During the day, I think Nora’s motor mouth is cute. It’s adorable. Most of the time. Her voice is high-pitched and chipmunk-like, as is her cherubic face. It only really gets to me when it cuts into my downtime. If she is still blabbing past eight at night, I stop thinking it’s cute. Because that is an almost-solid 13 hours of hearing about ballerinas, swimming pools, hearts, butterflies, princesses, unicorns and Wow Wow Wubbzy.
And THEN begins the struggle to keep Nora in bed long enough to fall asleep. Every five minutes, she’s calling. “Mommy, I need to go potty.” (She doesn’t). “Mommy, I need my bunny. The one with the pink nose.” (She knows damn well we haven’t seen that thing in months).
“Mommy, I need socks, my feet are cold.”
“Mommy, my fan isn’t on.”
“Mommy, I’m thirsty. And hungry.”
“Mommy, there’s a bat in my room with red eyes.” (This one is particularly hard to deal with, because I’ve watched too many horror flicks and am far too impressionable. What if there IS a bat with red eyes in there? Fuck, I’m sleeping with the lights on).
And God forbid TH and I go to bed before she’s asleep. She sees that living room light go off and goes nuts. And wakes up Ava. And then we’re all fucked.
So night after night, we increasingly become overtired, because no one is sleeping, not me, not Nora, not TH. (I should give TH major props here, because he is the one who deals with Nora in the middle of the night. TH, you are an amazing father. And there’s no punch line… You’re just an amazing father).
Enter Baby Ambien. I was at the end of my rope, and so I called Nora’s pediatrician, who is this hip, young mom herself, and begged her to help me. She told me to buy some Children’s Benadryl and give it to Nora for a few nights, until she got caught up on her sleep. I didn’t think it would work. The first night, I gave her the appropriate dose and tucked her in as she rambled on and on and on about her friends, her favorite TV shows, what she was going to say tomorrow… And then started to slur her words, her eyelids slowly dragging shut. I watched, a big smile on my face and waving bye-bye, as she tried to fight off the effects of the Benadryl… to no avail. She was in La-La Land in under ten minutes.
And slept through the whole night.
Oh, shit.
So now, my question is this: how many is “a few” nights? Are we talking like five days? Two weeks? Until she’s ten?
I have to talk myself out of giving her the Bendryl 90% of the time. Because it truly is amazing: No Benadryl, up until way past MY bedtime and every two hours until morning, or Yes Benadryl, down at eight and asleep until seven – at a minimum.
I am a terrible person that I even think about knocking my kid out with drugs every night, I know. But seriously. Spend a week with Nora and you’ll be ready to give her bourbon, if that’s what it takes.
Fine: Rum. Yes, I’m obsessed with pirates, and would give her rum. Now shut up.
Tags: Ambien, Benadryl, Nora, sleep, talking, Wow Wow Wubbzy
The Grandparents
Posted by admin | Filed under Motherhood, No One But Your Mom, Uncategorized, Womanhood, parenting
I've revealed that I grew up in a fairly strict household. A very loving one, but one in which surveillance cameras in my bedroom would not have seemed at all odd. My parents were overly concerned, overly helpful, overly pretty much everything. And I, the ever-dutiful daughter, did not rebel until… Well, shit, I don't think I've ever rebelled. Which is probably why I a) have a hard time keeping my obscene thoughts to myself and b) want to do stupid, irresponsible things as an adult. I mean, not terribly irresponsible – it's all relative, right? Since "irresponsible" for me is something like not taking the trash out. God, I'm a loser.
Anyways, now that my parents are grandparents, I'm finding that they are having a difficult time NOT meddling in my parenting. And since I'm trying to raise my girls differently than I was raised, this is proving to be – how should I put it? – an enormous pain in the buttocks.
Everything from eating habits to sleep routines have received criticism. Not so much from my mom – she knows to keep her mouth shut for the most part – but from my dad. The "constructive criticism" I hear most:
- You are spoiling Nora. (What? How can you let her eat fruit gummies for dinner? And in front of the TV, no less?)
- Children need to learn how to sleep under all conditions. Nora and Ava should be able to sleep in the car or the stroller. (What do you mean, you darken the windows and have a noise maker? Do you want them to become dependent on those things?)
I have heard these comments, and ones similar to them, so many times I've wanted to scream. I have told my parents (dad) to butt out, to shut the hell up, to mind their own goddamn business. But the trouble is, they help me out a lot with the girls, even considering they live so far away. So I guess they feel like it's ok to tell me I suck as a parent once in a while. And I guess I feel like I owe it to them to let them speak their minds, even if I don't follow their advice.
So what do you guys think? How do you handle your parents / in-laws and their "well-meaning" advice?
Tags: advice, criticism, eating habits, grandparents, parents, sleep, sleep routines
My Daughter, the Con Artist
Posted by admin | Filed under Insane in the MOMbrane, Motherhood, Preschoolers, Uncategorized, parenting, sleep
I've come to realize an important truth: Things don't necessarily get easier as kids get older – they just get different.
Actually, I would argue that Nora's bedtime has become considerably more difficult in the past few months. Like shoot-me-in-the-face more difficult. Like I'm-going-to-sell-my-children-on-the-black-market more difficult. Like fuck-it-I'll-just-give-them-away more difficult. You get the point, no?
Once upon a time, not too long ago, I was able to convince Nora that bedtime was bedtime. Our routine was simple: bath, read books in bed, lights out, goodnight kiss. And for a while there, she accepted it; she knew that after the third book, the lights would go off and Mama (or Dada) would leave. I'd shut her door and know that TH and I could enjoy a quiet evening to ourselves.
Well, all good things must come to end. At some point, Nora figured out that Mama and Dada were LYING when they said that they were going to bed too, because she could hear them clattering around in the kitchen. Moreover, she developed enough self-awareness to be afraid of things, and that just opened up a whole new can of worms. Nowadays, her bedtime routine is stretched out indefinitely as she tries her damnedest to keep me in her room – or convince me that she, too, needs to go back downstairs. Perhaps the most painful aspect of this whole process is that she REFUSES to let TH put her down. (And when I say "put her down" I don't mean in a Old Yeller kind of way. My father-in-law HATES it when I use that phrase.) And while her wanting only me is touching and all, by the time nine o'clock rolls around, I'm dead on my feet. And if I'm still pleading with Nora to GO TO SLEEP, well, let's just say calm, rational parenting goes out the window. I'm ready to duct-tape her to her mattress.
In the dark silence of her room, Nora will suddenly stiffen and ask me, "Mama, what dat?"
ME: "That's the sound of the cars outside."
Nora: "What dat?"
ME: "Those are the crickets chirping."
Nora: "What DAT?"
ME: "I don't know, but it's nothing scary, I SWEAR."
Or alternatively, the conversation will go like this:
Nora: "Mama, I have to potty."
ME: "You just went potty."
Nora: "I need Cheerios."
ME: "No Cheerios now."
Nora: "Mama, I left Doggy downstairs!"
After losing it on TH one night, crying that I was just soooooo tired, TH and I decided that she simply had to accept that Dada would do her bedtime routine with her, at least a few nights a week. Nora did not take this well, as she spent those nights wailing for me at the top of her lungs. And even me, cold, heartless bitch that I am, would feel myself weaken until I was on the verge of tears. What started off as painful actually become quite amusing as I would listen the the exchange between TH and Nora:
Nora, sitting on the potty for the third time in under ten minutes: "Dada, I like your shirt."
TH, waiting impatiently for her to finish: "Thank you."
Nora: "Where did you get it?"
TH, sounding unsure of how to respond: "Uh, I got it at Academy."
Nora: "A. Ca. Dem. Eeee?"
TH: "You know, the store with all the bicycles. Where you always have a meltdown."
Nora: "Oh, yeeeeeeaaaaah…."
It hasn't gotten easier yet. I'm still waiting for it to. SURELY at some point she'll get the idea, right? RIGHT?
Tags: bedtime, bedtime routines, Nora, parenting, Preschoolers, sleep, TH
Cry It Out, Baby
Posted by admin | Filed under Babies, Uncategorized, parenting, sleep
I am in a foul, foul mood today. I wouldn't call myself an unbelievably patient person, but normally I'm pretty good about keeping cool during bad motherhood-related situations. Public meltdown? I can usually stay calm and laugh about it (after the fact). Defiant preschooler? Whatever. Napless baby? I can roll with the punches.
But today? I feel like screaming "SHUT UP, SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP" every time one of the girls starts whining. I feel like locking them in a padded room for the day, occasionally slipping a bottle, sippy cup, and bag of Cheez-Its under the door. And you're right, bottles and sippy cups won't fit under the door, so my kids would be shit out of luck. Because I just don't feel like opening the door and taking the chance that one of them will get out.
Why do I feel this way, you ask? Good question. Not that I need a reason, but it just so happens that I have one. A couple days ago, Ava decided to stop napping. And then last night, she decided she'd stop sleeping through the night as well. I think she figured that since screeching like one possessed gets her out of napping during the day, it might work at night too. Darling Ava, you thought wrong.
I started out giving her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she's teething. Maybe she has a dirty diaper. Maybe she has a stuffy nose and can't breathe. Maybe she's scared, maybe she's lonely. But every time I went to check on her, she'd look from me to the door impatiently. She'd smile devilishly, reach out her chubby arms, and flash her dimples beseechingly. I started to believe that there was nothing wrong with her at all, except that she was becoming desperately, intolerably exhausted. "Overtired" is not extreme enough to describe her at this point. She's become akin to a raving lunatic. I set her down, she screams. I pick her up, she fights to get down. I try to feed her, she slaps the food out of my hand. I try to eat something myself, she starts wailing for my food. Clearly, she has no idea what she wants, and while I become increasingly frustrated, I also become increasingly certain that what she needs is the exact same thing I so severely need – SLEEP.
So last night at two in the morning, after making sure she was fine – clean diaper, no fever, not thirsty or hungry – I went back to my room and, just as she started screaming again, I turned the volume on the monitor all the way down. I am fortunate in that the master bedroom is far enough away from the girls' rooms that I can't hear anything without the monitor. Not being entirely heartless, however, I bought one of those Fisher-Price "Sounds n Lights" monitors so that I could tell when she stopped screaming her little head off. I watched as every single red light lit up and STAYED lit (Jesus, doesn't she need to get a breath in once in a while?) for extended periods of time. I should mention here that my monitor is old school (from 2006) and came in a box that I wish to God I had taken a picture of: It showed three pictures, one of a sleeping baby, one of a baby sitting quietly in in his crib, and one of a baby laughing. And it said something to the effect of, "Hear and see your baby's every call!" Yeah, because you know, I'm afraid my baby might start LAUGHING in the middle of the night.
Dear God, child, take a fucking breath! Photo by BenSpark via Flickr.
I must have lay awake for a good twenty minutes, staring at those unwavering lights. The fact that her screaming didn't wake Nora up is a wonder. At some point, I fell asleep (because my eyelids wouldn't hold up any longer), and then awoke with a start some time later. The little red bulbs were finally dark. When, the following morning (or is it the same morning?) she awoke for the day at seven-thirty, I rushed in to find a smiling, happy baby who was no worse for the wear.
Babies learn very quickly that crying, particularly the more shrill, piercing cries, tend to get them what they want (not necessarily NEED) in a hurry. And in the middle of the night, being rocked to sleep is preferable to having to figure out how to fall asleep on your own. Problem is, no one ends up getting any sleep. And what's worse than a cranky baby? A cranky baby whose mother is ALSO cranky. Not to mention weepy, clumsy, and hormonal. (Hormonal was not a very popular dwarf. Poor little Hormonal. Can you tell I'm tired?)
So some people think letting your baby "cry it out" is criminal, and will lead to maladjusted adults who have trust issues. I quote some expert or another on BabyCenter (God, I fucking HATE BabyCenter and their alarmist newsletters entitled, "What You SHOULD Be Worrying About (You Self-Absorbed Bitch)"):
The problem is that when infants are left to cry themselves to sleep, they are forced to conclude that they are not lovable enough to engage their parents' desires to comfort them. If they actually stop crying, it is because they have abandoned all hope that help will come. The meaningful question, then, is not, "What will make my baby go to sleep with the least attention?" but "What will enable my baby to put himself to sleep with the self-confidence that comes from feeling happy and cared about?"
Now I personally believe this is some of the biggest horse feces I've ever heard, and let me tell you, I've read up and down on the topic. Perhaps the most untrue bit of this "expert" advice is this line: "Over time, as your baby learns that his cries will be responded to, he will need less input from you to feel comforted and sleep." NOT. TRUE. As a matter of fact, the opposite is actually true – they will always need help falling and staying asleep. Take it from someone (me) whose mother sacrificed her physical and emotional well-being to perpetually rock and soothe her children to sleep, from someone who grew up having night terrors into her late teens AND has nighttime anxiety and raging insomnia as a mother herself.
What do you guys think? Lemme have it.
Tags: "cry it out", baby monitor, baby sleep, baby sleep methods, BabyCenter, Fisher Price, horse feces, sleep, sleep expert
Dearest Ava
Posted by admin | Filed under Babies, Insane in the MOMbrane, sleep
I love you dearly, my littlest girl. Really, you are a living doll, with your generous smiles and oh-so-cute dimples. HOWEVER. If you continue to wake up at midnight EVERY NIGHT and scream for two hours simply because you WANT TO PLAY, realize that I WILL NOT HESITATE to leave you on a complete stranger's doorstep with a big-ass bow on your head and a card that reads "Accept this deceptively cute gift at your own risk."
Your loving (but so beyond fucking exhausted) Mama
Tags: Ava, exhaustion, sleep
Sleep and Revenge
Posted by admin | Filed under Babies, Motherhood, Preschoolers, Uncategorized, parenting, sleep
When I was school-aged, I began to believe my mom had a sadistic streak. Starting when I was about six or seven, my mother would take great pleasure in waking me up for school in the mornings. She'd burst into my room, telling me (in an unnecessarily loud voice) to get up, yank open the blinds, and then turn the radio on as she walked out.
I am not the only person with such stories – my friends have shared similar anecdotes, in which otherwise loving, gentle parents wake their blissfully sleeping children in cruel, what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you ways. For instance, one friend tells how her mother used to burst into her room singing at the top of her lungs (and no, she did not have a glorious singing voice). Another friend tells of how her mother would yank the sheets off of her if she wasn't up within a couple minutes. Yet ANOTHER friend tells how his dad would give him five minutes to get out of bed, or he would get a glass of water poured on his head. I mean, really, people, is this necessary?
Until recently I didn't understand all the malice associated with waking children up for school. But recent developments (read: I had kids) have shed light on the reasons for this hostile behavior on the parts of our parents.
Oh, I cannot fucking WAIT to wake Nora and Ava up for school.
In a word: Revenge. For almost three years, I have been in the Second Ring of the Seventh Circle of Sleep Deprivation Hell. I would beg for just five more minutes of sleep, please, dear God in heaven, but instead would get a howling baby who was stubbornly set on sleeping all day and crying all night. Or a toddler who thought five in the morning was a perfectly acceptable time to start the day.
TH and I long for the days when we could, at the very least, sleep in on a Saturday or Sunday, or take a spontaneous nap in the middle of a Saturday afternoon. Our weekends are now desperate attempts at sleeping – TH lets me sleep in and I grant him a nap. We flop on the living room floor at ungodly hours in the morning as our spawn run / crawl circles around us. I manage to drag my sorry ass into the kitchen and muster just enough energy to dump a few scoops of ground coffee into the coffee maker and then proceed to stare at it until it beeps. I will not even grunt at my children until I've had at least one cup. And I gaze in wonder (annoyance) as they chatter vivaciously, their eyes bright and faces clear.
Note to the sleep-deprived parent with young children: Fear not, your time is coming. In the words of Edmond Dantes, "And now, farewell to kindness, humanity and gratitude… may the God of vengeance now yield me His place to punish the wicked."
Mooooooo-haw-haw-haw-haw-haw! * wringing hands mischievously *
Now, I chose this photo for a couple reasons: 1) One could assume he was sleep deprived and not necessarily lamenting a one-night stand, and 2) He's HOT. Photo by becon via iStock.
Tags: coffee, hell, school, sleep, sleep deprivation
Conversations with My Doctor
Posted by admin | Filed under Insane in the MOMbrane, parenting, sleep
I'm being punished for something. I'm not sure what. But ever since having Ava, I've suffered from insomnia.
It's a horrific yet hilarious quandary. I'm exhausted but can't sleep. I KNOW one of my little insects is going to wake me up at an ungodly early hour, and yet I can't SLEEP. What kind of cruel punishment IS this?
In part, I guess, it's anxiety. I wonder if I've locked all the doors, if the fire alarms work properly, if I remembered to turn all the appliances off. It's also partly that I am, always have been, and always will be a night owl. I do my best work late at night. My brain (finally) awakens, and my creative juices flow. This attribute runs in the family – both my father and my brother roam their houses in the wee hours of morning even though they'll be up bright and early for work. (At least, I THINK my brother works. He is definitely too sun-tanned for someone with a desk job).
So anyways, I decided to go to my general practitioner for my yearly physical, and while I was there I thought I'd ask her about my insomnia. FYI, I don't know if this woman has children, but she was talking like she didn't even know what one was. It went something like this:
Doc: So you're having trouble sleeping?
Me: Yep.
Doc: Do you get daily exercise?
Me: Um, define "daily exercise."
Doc, looking at me like I’m a retard: You know, walk, jog, lift weights?
Me: No, but I run after a 2-year-old and lug an 8-month-old all day. Does that count?
Doc, ignoring me and clearly not finding me amusing: Do you drink caffeine?
Me: Um, yes.
Doc: More than two cups of coffee a day?
Me, looking at doc like SHE'S the retard: Um, yes.
Doc: Have you tried drinking a glass of warm milk before bed?
Me, wondering if she's serious: Um, no. I don't like milk. Plus, I'd be up peeing all night.
Doc, clearly over-informed: Well, have you considered getting massages or maybe acupuncture to help you relax?
Me, blinking uncomprehendingly: No, I haven't. I don't think I'd have time for that.
Doc: You have to make time. After all, it's for your health and well-being.
Me, staring: —
Doc: Well, I could give you some Ambien or Lunesta.
Me: Awesome. Let's do that.
Doc: But you know, I should double check which one's better for you, considering you're nursing…
Me, interrupting: I'm sure both are fine. Can I take them together, you think? After a glass of red?
Ok, I made that last part up. But seriously, did my doctor not get the whole I HAVE TWO SMALL CHILDREN memo? Exercise? No caffeine? Acupuncture? MASSAGE? Is she on crack?
Another interesting FYI: Lunesta does jack shit, and Ambien makes me forget everything I've said or done before bed. Fun, fun, fun…
Tags: Ambien, doctor, drugs, exercise, exhaustion, insomnia, Lunesta, nursing, sleep
“No One But Your Mom Gives a Shit” Post #2
Posted by admin | Filed under Insane in the MOMbrane, No One But Your Mom, sleep
I’ve had “one of those days.”
I awoke this morning actually smiling, thinking how lucky and blessed I was. That was my first mistake. From that point on, everything that could have gone wrong DID go wrong. It rained every time I had to leave the house. I had to talk to neighbors I regularly avoid (think “gun-toting lunatic”). I slammed my head into an open cupboard. I had to write checks and could not find a SINGLE goddamned pen in the entire house. My girls didn’t nap. They proceeded to have public meltdowns. Nora decided it was a good idea to use Ava’s head as a drum. Ava didn’t think so.
I was so exhausted by 5 that I was, for the first time, thanking Ben Franklin for coming up with daylight savings. I may be losing an hour of sleep, but I’m taping garbage bags to my windows and putting my girls down in 2 hours instead of 3. Hooray!
As I sit here, I haven’t eaten dinner yet and my stomach is growling. I have to pee. The kitchen is a disaster. And I have absolutely NO interest in doing anything but sitting here until I fall asleep. I worry, however, about drooling on my beautiful Macbook Pro. Hmmm. Maybe I’ll drag my sorry ass to bed…
And because I couldn’t find any stock images of a haggard woman face-down on her computer drooling:
I ALWAYS look like this when asleep. Uh-huh.
Tags: bad day, daylight savings, exhaustion, meltdowns, neighbor, sleep
Naptime Is the New “Drive-Mommy-Nuts” Time
Posted by admin | Filed under Insane in the MOMbrane, Just plain funny, Stay At Home Moms, Uncategorized, parenting, sleep
It used to be that naptime was "me" time. But that was when I only had one kid. Granted, neither of my girls are good nappers – they tend to sleep in 30-45-minute stints that, when I only had Nora to worry about, would frustrate me. Now that I have two little buggers who sleep in brief stints, however, I want to go over to my lunatic, gun-toting, trigger-happy neighbor and ask her to shoot me repeatedly until she's sure I'm dead. (She'd happily do it, too. This is Texas, after all).
This is how it goes these days: They both nap at 1, so I try and get them both to go down together so that I might have some baby-free time. You know, to do FUNDAMENTAL things, like eat, take a piss, pluck my eyebrows (because the mono-brow look is not flattering on me), etc. Typically, I get Ava down pretty easily by 1:15. Getting Nora down is a different story – she's become the greatest bullshitting procrastinator I have ever met (takes after her father). By the time I've changed her diaper (because she lied and told me she had a poopie), gotten her a new cup of water (because she told me there was "yucky hair" in her old cup), gotten Bunny out of her bed and then put Bunny back, and then gotten Bunny out again ("I want Bunny…No, no Bunny! Go away, Bunny! Mama, I WANT BUNNY!"), made sure the blanket is placed just how she likes it, and then, FINALLY, caressed her a bit before leaving, Ava has awakened and is screaming. Mother. Fucker.
So I let Ava scream for five minutes while I check my e-mail, and then go up and see if she has a dirty diaper. She's fine, so I put her back in her crib and leave, at which point she becomes possessed by Satan and starts screeching and kicking the bars of her crib. That's when I hear Nora calling for me like she has a general question to ask ("Hmmm… Mama?" Oh, Mamaaaaaa…"), and so I ignore her. They are then both quiet for about ten minutes, and just as I'm about to eat my nuked burrito, Nora starts crying, "Oh, no! Mama! I'm stuck! I'M STUCK! HEEEEEEEEELP!" causing Ava to start screeching again.
Cramming half the burrito down my throat (which, by the way, causes major heartburn), I go back upstairs to find Nora has managed to wiggle herself through the neck of her shirt. I spend what feels like an eternity getting her out of her shirt while she cries, "Ouchie! OUCHIE! WAAAAAAAA!" And then I practically fling her back into bed, ignoring her pleas for another diaper change, another cup of water, another ANYTHING…
I think you get the idea. So I pour myself a glass of hard liquor, down several pain killers, and tear open a bag of cookies. Yeah, go ahead and judge me, assholes with PhDs in Child Psychology. I dare you.
Nora with her shirt around her waist because she wiggled through the neckhole.
Tags: cookies, naps, naptime, sleep
Ice Cream for Dinner? Have At It…
Posted by admin | Filed under Stay At Home Moms
Nowadays, there are a host of motherhood and baby-related websites and blogs to choose from. So why should you devote your hard-earned web-surfing time to this one? I'll tell you why: Because mine is better than the rest. How is that, you ask? Well…
- I'm as frazzled, pissed, annoyed, and sleep-deprived as you are. The idea for this site stemmed from, go figure, my having a baby. Yes, that's right, I too spend way too much time changing diapers, cleaning spit-up, and dragging my out-of-shape ass out of bed at three in the morning. My little bundles of joy, "Nora" who is 29 months (just shy of two-and-a-half), and "Ava" who is 7 months, have forced me to develop this utter and complete respect for mothers. They are, in my opinion, WAY underrated. I'm not sure when or why "stay-at-home-mom" (SAHM) became a dirty word/phrase, because that shit is hard! I dare anyone to do what SAHMs do every day, day in and day out. You think your job is hard? Cry me a river, bitch. Certain aspects of this job are just shy of waterboarding, in my opinion. And yes, sleep deprivation is torture. It helps keep me going when my girls are awake and screaming half the night to know that, somewhere, a few of you gals are doing the exact same thing as me and not pretending to love it.
- This is not a "family" site. As the curse words above demonstrate, this site isn't for the kids. It's for modern mothers with babies and small children, who have spent their days taking care of everything but themselves; who have censored themselves multiple times a day for the sake of small-but-amazingly-keen ears; who would do anything for a glass (or five) of wine, a whole cookie ("Mommy, dat's MINE! I WAN' IT!"), and 30 unmolested minutes to watch an episode of E! True Hollywood Story. Or how about just 30 minutes of sleep? (Please?) I've gotten kind of sick of the whole "I'm a perfect mom" act some women try to pull – the same sorority girls who were drinking themselves into a coma at frat parties are suddenly cardigan-wearing PTA moms whose worst expletive consists of the word "fiddle." Come on now. Who do these whores think they're kidding? I love baking cookies as much as the next mom (who am I kidding? My lazy ass doesn't bake), but I'm still, deep-down, the same girl who couldn't complete a sentence without F-bombing at least 3 times. And the same girl who loves to shop, party, and act like a retard. And not clean her room, and wear sexy clothes… You get the idea. I wanted to create a place for women like me, who are sitting smack between two worlds, loving both and not truly willing to give up either.
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- I don't get out much. While many women manage to stay at home, take care of their children, husbands and household affairs, and still maintain thriving relationships with their girlfriends, I am not one of them. And I am banking on you not being one either. On good days, the extent of my adult interaction is with Betty, the elderly bagger at the local grocery store. And she never remembers who I am, so it's not like that qualifies as any sort of "relationship." It feels good to exchange thoughts and unwind with fellow mothers who, like me, are snatching a few moments to themselves here and there. My lack of social life also ensures that all of my leftover energy goes into making sure this blog is as up-to-date and interesting as possible for you lovely ladies.
As I write this, both my girls are in bed and screaming their heads off. It's motherfucking naptime, dammit. I need a Vicodin-laced latte. You hear that, Starbucks?
Tags: Ava, coffee, Nora, sleep, Stay At Home Moms
