I’m not a good joke teller. I have a steady repertoire of about 5 jokes–all of which are not kid-friendly in the least–and it’s like any time I try and add another one, I’m stuck with only remembering the punch line. It goes through my head in a circular loop, planted there like a song until something distracts it out of me.
Today, all I keep repeating is this “Drained wops keep falling on my head.” There was something about vampires and Italy, but I can’t recall it to save my life although I remember it being funny. Whether it was or not remains to be determined.
Last night was my first night since Amelia was born that I was genuinely on my own. The Daver has a job that while it leaves me to be a single parent most weeknights, was kind and flexible enough to allow him to work from home to support all of us. I can wax poetic about how irritating it is that he’s always on call or that work always seems to have A Big Problem whenever we’re doing something cool, but I’ll never forget how kind they’ve been to us.
I figured I could handle this, right? Sure Alex is sick and Amelia is catching it and so what if I was up the night before with my mind racing unpleasantly? I WAS A ROCKSTAR AND I COULD DO IT.
But last night my kids, who have inherited my sick sense of humor, had other plans that graciously allowing their precious mother 10-12 hours of uninterrupted sleep before awaking to serve me breakfast in bed and then clean my house for me. I know, right? The NERVE of them. And of course they seemed to sense that I had no backup for the following day.
Because my daughter was up until midnight, restless and cranky and just as I got her off to the Land Of Nod and firmly ensconced in her bouncy sleep my middle son began to shriek like he was being attacked. So off I trundled to get him another bottle of water and some cold medicine (did I mention we are all sick? Because we totally are.) and by the time I got in there I saw the cause for his screams.
Somehow, my darling most wonderful middle son took off his damn diaper and pissed all over the crib and his beloved ragged blankie. Awesome. But whatever, not the end of the world. Fixed that, popped him back into bed and once again shlepped my ass back to bed.
Second verse, same as the first, right? I fall asleep to be awaken after a brief moment to the melodious screams of my Alex. Finally at 2 in the morning I cried uncle after still not catching more than a couple minutes of sleep and begged Daver to help.
4:30 rolled around awfully early and found Amelia looking for a snacky-poo and by this time I couldn’t fall back asleep once we were done. And holy SHIT are babies loud sleepers or WHAT? I’d completely forgotten that.
So my day today has been…interesting. I’m so tired that I’m all jangly and I feel like somewhere, someone is laughing at me because I totally thought I could handle this.