Do not attempt this while sleep-deprived

I burnt my shoulder with the hairdryer. Ouch. I don’t know how people stand it who get burns over large portions of their bodies when even a little one smarts so much. I guess they stand it because they have to.  My first post-baby alcoholic drink can’t come soon enough. For now, I will settle for ice cream with chocolate sauce.

Mommy brain, part 2

I was gazing at my son’s perfect face today and suddenly I panicked. “He’s already almost a month old and we haven’t brushed his teeth!”, I thought in a panic. “We brush the cats’ teeth and even apply sealant to Earl Grey’s religiously once a week, but we have neglected our child’s dental hygiene!!” Then, reason and logic briefly held sway in my sleep-deprived brain. Newborns don’t have teeth. Riiiiggghht.

It’s a very cruel joke of Mother Nature’s that, at the time when we have a vulnerable new life to protect, we are so out of our minds with lack of sleep that we can’t walk straight or form a coherent thought. Last night, I forgot the first lines to two of my favorite Dixie Chicks songs I was attempting to sing to my son before he went to sleep. This morning, I banged my toes in to the wall on my way out of the kitchen yet again and blasphemed. Thank God the kid was across the room. Later on, I accidentally dropped a spoon on the coffee table and woke him up. I promptly followed that stunning feat by uttering the Queen Mother of Dirty Words. I said it under my breath, but he was much closer this time. (Did I forget to mention that being wakened every three hours or less to feed someone causes lack of patience and frustration as well as stupidity?) Not batting a thousand as a mom today. Maybe it is the lack of Starbucks. They really need to start delivering.

Mommy brain

A combination of baby love, which renders me unwilling and unable to think about much besides my baby boy and how crazy I am about him, and extreme fatigue, are making it impossible for me to think of anything to write about. Except for the fact that I can’t think of anything. Hopefully, I will get more sleep tonight and come at you with something more scintillating tomorrow. However, the delirium from being barely able to keep my eyes open is actually somewhat pleasant. Maybe I want to keep it.

It’s amazing how, no matter how tired I am, if I am at all worried about my little one, I can’t seem to go to sleep. That has been the problem the past few nights. He has hit a growth spurt and, consequently, changed his schedule on me. The past few nights, he has eaten at about 9:30 and then not woken up for 4 or 5 hours. My husband and I are still night owls, so we often stay up until the usual three-hour gap between feedings has elapsed at 12:30. However, he has skipped that feeding the past two nights. We would try to go to bed once we realized he was going to skip it, but I would be too keyed up, worrying that I should get up and feed him, because (and here’s the kicker) he would wake up, but not want to eat. He would take the pacifier, but kept spitting it out. I ask you, what kind of newborn wakes up at night and doesn’t want to eat??? And then plays fetch with his poor, tired, addle-brained parents??? (If you’re wondering how I was managing to even try and sleep, my wonderful husband was the one fetching the pacifier over and over.)

Essentially, we have missed out on a good 5 or 6 hours of consecutive sleep the past few nights. If you have ever been a new parent, especially a breast-feeding mom, you know how precious that is. I am going to try and out-smart him tonight by going to bed as soon after the 9:30 feeding as possible. I have a feeling I may have met my match, though. We’ll see.

Top 10 Most Annoying Things Said to Expectant Parents

In no particular order:

1. It will change your life forever. (If they are too stupid to know this, they shouldn’t be having a baby.)

2. Sleep when the baby sleeps. (Every baby book says this. You need to think up better material if this is your best advice.)

3. Anything prefaced with “It was good enough in my day…” (Moms get VERY huffy about the changes in child-rearing since they raised their own children. They seem to take them as a personal insult.)

4. “You’re going to get the drugs, right?” (Followed by a polite “Oh” when you tell them you are, in fact, crazy enough to want to try natural childbirth.)

5. Retelling a friend’s horrific birth story to a first-time mother. (Why did the checker at HEB, a complete stranger by the way, think I wanted to know about her friend’s emergency C-section?)

6. “You’re not a Mommy yet!” (In response to the “Mommy and Me” shirt I wore at my baby shower. My uncle should try saying that to me after he lugs a baby around inside him for six months.)

7. “Say good-bye to a good night’s sleep.” (Oh, REALLY? Babies don’t sleep much? They wake up at night?? Why did no one tell me this???)

8. “Are you going to lock her up till she’s 30?” (Sexist humor never gets old.)

9. “I wonder if you’ll still be as crazy about your cats after the baby comes.” (Oh, yes, that’s an excellent trait for a parent. Ceasing to care about living creatures who depend on you after you get a new, more demanding one.)

10. “I know this isn’t what you registered for, but this worked so much better for me.” (Why don’t you just come right out and say that you think my carefully researched parenting decisions are stupid?)

They’re already conspiring against me…

My unborn son and my cats, I mean. Last night was not entirely pleasant. We had a doctor’s appointment at 7:30 a.m. today. My husband and I are NOT morning people, but we didn’t have a choice. We have to go every week now and it was the only slot available. Besides 7 a.m., that is. My husband doesn’t even get up for work that early.

Anyway, we got to bed late (I don’t even know when. We’re night owls, which is why we’re not morning people.) and I was sleeping poorly, partly because I’m nine months pregnant and partly because I knew I had to get up. I tossed and turned a bit, which woke my husband up as well, since it now takes at least three distinct motions for me to turn over in bed, all of which shake the bed. Plus, I have to rearrange my body pillows everytime I move, not to mention groan and say “Ow” everytime the baby’s feet poke me in the ribs or he presses on my bladder or I feel a round ligament pull because of the extremely full bladder I have the superhuman ability to ignore and still not wet myself, even at nine months pregnant.

My sweet husband was so incredibly kind during this whole ordeal, saying wonderful things like, “I’m sorry, honey” and “Are you ok?” instead of getting mad at me for disturbing his sleep. I sometimes suspect he knows how to say those things while still sleeping, but it is still very sweet. I’d rather I didn’t wake him up anyway. Finally, at 5:22 a.m., I woke up in extreme pain from a bladder in imminent danger of exploding and had to give up and go to the bathroom. I don’t know where all of that liquid came from, since I had exactly two sips of water before going to bed, but I have learned that, while pregnant, you cannot consume ANY liquids within several hours of going to bed, even if you relieve yourself multiple times before retiring. Also, I think the body rebels against the triple-digit temps in Texas by storing every single bit of liquid you take in until it feels safe to let them go at an ungodly hour of the morning.

Since I have the aforementioned superhuman ability to ignore nature’s call without disastrous consequences, my cats are not accustomed to seeing me get up at night. Usually, I do not get up until I absolutely have to in the morning, either because I have to work or because it is almost noon, but not quite, so I can still say I got up in the morning. When I get up, they get Fancy Feast. (Well, in the case of CC, she gets Whisker Lickin’s Chicken and Cheese treats, because she doesn’t like Fancy Feast.) It doesn’t matter what time it is. If I get up, it’s Fancy Feast time.  That’s another reason I have been resisting my bladder. However, at 5:22 a.m., I resist the cats. I got back in bed, extremely careful not to kick Fudgie, who always sleeps on my side of the foot of the bed. However, he and Earl Grey must have been irate at being misled about getting their Fancy Feast for they proceeded to run loudly, claws scrambling on hardwood floor, Fudgie meowing plaintively periodically, all over the house for the next hour, while I somewhat unsuccessfully tried to go back to sleep before my alarm went off. They finally stopped, only for me to hear Fudgie attempting to open a loose cabinet door a few minutes later. And failing. Over and over again. “Bang, bang, bang. MEOW!! Bang, bang, bang. MEOW!!” Then, he tried jumping on top of the TV set (Thank goodness we haven’t bought a flat-screen yet.), which is plastic and creaks. And meowed until my wonderful hubby chased him away. He finally gave up after that or I managed to tune him out.

Guess who was sleeping peacefully at the foot of the bed when I woke up at 7 a.m., hating my life? Oh, yes, Fudgie, who had kept me awake for having the audacity to get out of bed and not feed him. Did he and Earl Grey get Fancy Feast before we rushed out of the door for our appointment?  But, of course.

However, kick-ass pregnant female that I am, I actually managed to enjoy the morning with my equally kick-ass husband. (Although we get pretty stupid without sleep. I’m a little worried about our kid. And the people in our immediate vicinity for the next few months. Oh, well. We had fun.) I even, after a short nap (Cut short by little feet in my ribs, that is.), managed to run three errands in the unforgiving triple-digit heat. I rock, as does my life. And my noisy, demanding, adorable cats.

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