Sometimes, I don’t know the difference between a mom-fail and a mom-survival. Seriously…it’s a fine line and I spend a lot of time balancing on it.
Case in point: It’s obscenely early in the morning right now. The baby has been getting up (or rather, screaming up) early all week. Going back to bed, coming into my bed have not worked. So today, in an act of desperation, we’re having a Curious George marathon while I try to prop my weary eyes open with coffee and pray that the older two sleep in a bit with their sister occupied by the most annoying monkey in the world.
I should be entertaining her. I possibly should even be looking at her a bit more lovingly than I am right now, but darn it all…I’m tired! And there’s only so much shrill screaming from a 17 month old that one can handle on minimal sleep. Especially when it’s days on end.
These are those moments where I need to have more grace for myself as a parent. These years are so awesome but at the same time, they are impossibly hard too. The unpredictability of each day may excite some but for me…I’d like a little stability once in a while. And a full night of sleep. And to punch Curious George in the head. That last one may or may not be more related to lack of sleep than about the monkey.
Either way, here we are. Couch buddies. Comrades. Early morning crew. She won’t remember the days she watched hours of tv while I tried not to fall over asleep and drink coffee like it’s my job. It’s not the best way I can think to bond with my baby girl but her gooey smile and affection for trying to stick her bunny blanket up my nose tell me that she doesn’t much care, so long as I’m sitting here beside her.