Chasing Ri and Bo

Why am I so tired?

It is a question that I ask myself multiple times a day, and even more so on Mondays. Most evenings, I go to bed at 8:45 PM, so in reality, I should be well rested. Hell, I should be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but instead, I feel like I am dragging my body around like it is completely deadweight. What gives? I’ll tell you.

1. I am chronically sleep deprived. I thought this would go away after Bode started sleeping IMG_4647through the night. Wrong-o. Now, I wake up multiple times a night to my zombie-eyed toddler, who likes to stare at me while I sleep. Creeper. Have you ever woken up to your child’s face two inches away from your own? It makes you want to jump out of your skin. Not cool, not cool at all. I always bring her back to her own bed and lay with her for a few minutes. That being said, 2-3 times a week, she ends up in our bed at 5:30 AM, which allows me about 3-inches of free space to try and sleep.

2. My mornings feel like I am sucking wind in a 50-yard dash. Here is a quick timeline:

6:00 AM: Bode wakes up and starts dramatically crying because he cannot wait another minute for his ba-ba (bottle). I dash downstairs to let the dog out and make him a bottle. I run back upstairs, give him his beverage of choice, and throw toys in his crib, so I can take a 6-minute shower.

6:05 AM: Speed wash my hair, get dressed, brush my teeth, apply bronzer so I don’t look like death warmed over, and run back to Bode’s room.

6:11 AM:  Change Bo’s diaper and wrestle him into school clothes.

6:15 AM: Go downstairs; give Bode breakfast in his highchair. Unload the clean bottles andIMG_4727 lunch containers from the dishwasher, as Bo unloads the rest of the utensils onto the floor. Thanks for helping buddy!

6:30 AM: Pack lunches. Sounds easy, but for Bode everything has to be cut into teeny, tiny pieces, so he doesn’t asphyxiate (spell check just laughed at me as I tried to spell this “ass-fix-i-ate” see how tired I am?) during snack time.

6:40 AM: Label all perishable items so they can be identified in the fridge at daycare.

6:45AM: Riley knocks on her door to let me know that she is awake and ready to come downstairs.

6:50AM: I make Riley breakfast, sometimes cereal, sometimes eggs, sometimes pancakes, but usually, party-themed mini muffins and a bowl of yogurt. Parenting fail.

7:00 AM: Riley watches cartoons as I make coffee and then stare at the machine for 10 minutes waiting for it to be done. Meanwhile, I chase Bode back and forth from the stairs, because I’m the idiot who broke our baby gate, and now needs to play gate-keeper, trying to prevent him from breaking his neck. It’s not like he is trying to summit Mt. Everest, but the danger feels just as real.

7:15AM: Suck down coffee, burning tongue in the process, and not caring at all.

7:30AM: Argue with Riley about which clothes to wear, how she wants to do her hair, and pleading with her to sit on the potty for at least 5-minutes before giving in to diapers.

7:45AM: Attempt to shove chubby feet (Bode’s and sometimes my own) into shoes. Ask Riley to put her coat and shoes on 12 times, before completely losing my sanity and threatening to take away her chance to have Pez later (parenting fail, again).

7:50AM: Carry all bags and Bode’s car seat to the car. Ask Riley to get in the car as she frolics barefoot through the wet mulch and then complains that her feet are dirty. <<Sigh.>>

8:00AM: Sit in the driver seat with my head slammed against the horn for a minute, while I take a deep breath and prepare myself for 25 minutes of wheels on the bus.

3. I am chronically dehydrated. I need to drink more water. Pretty simple. Most of the time, my body is running on empty, completely dried out, with small puddles of wine to keep it going. If only I could use a public restroom without thinking I was going to die. Eleven hours bathroom free, means very little liquid intake for me. I know it’s not healthy. I know I will be in Depends by the ripe age of 40. I’m working on it….kind of.

4. I work full-time, with two kids under the age of 3, and my husband works 24-hour shifts. No explanation needed. Proud firefighter wife! But, it isn’t always easy to be the one on duty at home, while your spouse is on duty at work.

5. Trying to get Riley to go to sleep is like a second job. I guess you could say all areas of sleep are a struggle in our house right now. At 7:30PM we start the bedtime routine. Bath if needed, jammies, brush our teeth, story time, looking at the fake stars on the ceiling, followed by an awful attempt by yours truly to sing “Hush,Little Baby.” Then the fun starts.

8PM: Riley’s door opens.

M: “Riley, you need to go to bed.”

R: “Why?”

M: “Because, it is bed time.”

8:15PM: Riley’s door opens.

R: “Momma, I done sleeping.”

M: “Riley, you need to go to bed, it is bed time.”

8:30PM: Riley’s door opens.

R: “Momma, I hurt my elbow.”

M: ” That wouldn’t happen if you stayed in bed and tried to go to sleep.”

8:40PM: Riley’s door opens

R: “Mom?”

M: “Yes, Riley?”

R: ” I come downstairs now?”

M: ” No, it is bedtime. Please lay down. If you get out of bed again, we will not watch a movie tomorrow.”

This is  how I feel at 8:55PM:

9:00 PM: SILENCE. Mom pours a glass of wine. Success.

 xx

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