My new little guy started waking up 5+ times a night again. My first son did this around the same age, and I don’t like the de ja vu. It’s been a few weeks of this, and I’ve been feeling…weird. Is this what it’s like to be on drugs? Is this what Kylie and Kendall feel like at Coachella?
When I’m running on several days of very little sleep, my mind goes to really strange places. I suddenly remember obscure details from when I was little, like the lyrics to my family’s screen saver (a bunch of flying toasters with a theme song), the spot in our grass that was prime rollie pollie real estate, and the address to send fan mail for a Stick Stickly, a talking popsicle stick on TV (PO BOX 963 New York City NY 10108).
A low budget 90’s show was not wasted on me, Nick Jr.
Even though I was worried my brain might derail for a minute, I’m back. I have eaten a lot of birthday cupcakes for breakfast to keep me afloat, and dyed my hair purple, but I think this is it. We are on the downhill of new baby blur.
No, really. WHO IS FREAKING THERE?! Who dares to disturb my house during nap time?
Is nothing sacred anymore?
Apparently, my friendly “Please Knock! :)” note taped over the doorbell is not effective. Some people, who I now have voodoo dolls of, have even pressed. The doorbell. Through. The paper.
I’m starting to recognize which naptime perpetrator is at my door by their inconsiderate jackhammer knocking and ringing.
If it sounds like someone is kicking the door, it’s the landscaper in short shorts. Again. Every other month, there he is, just knocking away until you tip-toe-sprint down the stairs to stop him. On the bright side, I don’t even have to bother opening the door after it disintegrates from the lasers of anger beaming out of my pupils. It just falls to dust, and there he is, standing in his short shorts glory. I know our backyard looks a little incomplete. Our shrubbery minimalism is so under appreciated.
If the doorbell rings 3 times, it’s the UPS guy. He gets so excited about my midnight online shopping deliveries, his fingers can’t help but do a little Irish river dance on my doorbell. Calm down, sir! I know my Haute Look or Nordstrom Rack order is out for delivery! I track my orders! Just set my package down at the end of the walkway, and army crawl back to your truck!
If the doorbell gets stuck after an aggressive ring, it’s the Fed Ex man. I pray no one has ever been poked by the Fed Ex delivery man. They would probably die. I have to go outside and pick my doorbell out of its socket to make my house stop buzzing, which of course wakes up babies. I always open the door just a crack to glare at him if I can catch him in the act and whisper-hiss “ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW? This paper says knoooock! It even has a smiley face!!!!” One more time of ringing OR peeling out in that giant truck, and I’m sling shotting poopy diapers (it’s an economical surplus at our house) at him from my roof.
There are no diapers smelling
And no babies yelling
Alone time’s in siiiiight
It’s the most wonderful tiiiiime of the night!
I’m using some of my precious, precious off-duty time this evening to catch you up on the past month of my life. We have been a little exhausted over here, but I think my littlest guy is finally starting to fall into some sleep patterns. Cue the mommy caroling!