Romancing the Sleep

We all know that being a parent is harder than a scrap of grilled cheese from under the couch five days old, but I think one of the hardest things for new parents to swallow, is being plunged into the deep dark depths of SLEEP DEPRIVATION.  


There were times that I really didn’t think I could manage.  Times I thought I just might break the law in one way or another due to extreme exhaustion.  I’d call my single friends in tears but they just didn’t get it.  

“It’ll be okay.” they said.  

“You’ll get through it.” they said.  

“Please, just don’t fucking kill anyone…I don’t have enough bail money…” they said.  

I wanted to tell them all just to shut the fuck up, and yet I NEEDED a voice of reason… even if it was from people who slept until noon and went out on the weekends…. Bastards.

I’m happy to say, after enduring countless sleepless nights, that I’m FINALLY past this ugly stage with my children (although facing new, and uglier ones now) but I can say, with more of an objective point of view, that the sleeping patterns of babies are…well… they’re… disgustingly torturous.  So torturous in fact, that there were times I was willing to endure the pain of childbirth a million times over in exchange for a full night’s sleep.

WHY? 

Why is it so fucking hard for babies to do something that is so seemingly natural, and moreover, ENJOYABLE for US??

Well, I’ll tell you why.  

It’s because ironically (y’know, the word, that after having kids pops up more often then a teen boy’s weewee  at a Victoria’s Secret fashion show) SLEEP is a LEARNED behavior.  Yup.  We actually have to TEACH our baby HOW TO SLEEP.  Did I mention the fact that there’s NO true method on just how to accomplish this feat??  It’s more of a trial and error thing whereas the ERROR results in you practically LOSING YOUR SHIT.

Below I have listed the multitude of ways in which I have attempted to lull my two bundles of hell into “LaLa Land”:

Bouncing.  Bouncing until my knees were more sore than a crack whore who specializes in blow jobs.

Breastfeeding. Breastfeeding until my nipples were more scabbed over than a 5 year old’s knees (or the aforementioned crack whore) and until the glutton of a baby was hurling buckets of tata juice.

Shoving little thumbs into little mouths.  I used pillows, stuffed animals, Boppys, ANYTHING as a propping device to have my baby suck on something other than ME.  (This worked pretty good but not without good old IRONY fucking me over in the form of my seven year old getting hooked.  When tired, she’s still sucks her thumb to THIS DAY!)

Cry it out.  Cringing like a PETA member watching a Sara Mclachlin commercial on loop, with Daddy climbing the walls, you have to really be willing to commit to this shit.  Sending a pre-apology letter to your neighbors is a good idea as well.

Giving up my “marital bed”.  Willing to forgo not only sex (as if you want it… NOT) but also the guilt of “creating a bad habit” I many times, have allowed the foot of a baby up my nose just to actually not have to “GET UP”, walk into the next room, only to start the process of ALL OF THE FUCKING ABOVE. 

Walking to China and back.  Well, not literally, but I have paced my house SO MANY times, sleepless baby in hand, that if I added up, all the steps would equal at least that.  If I lifted my hallway runner and put a level to the floor, I’m pretty sure there’d be a worn out groove not unlike like the prehistoric waters that ultimately carved what is now known as the Grand Fucking Canyonminus the fucking part.

Swaddling.  Well, one of us was gonna end up in a straight jacket and THAT’S a FACT.  Since I was still able to hide MY insanity within the walls of my abode, why not put the screaming baby in one first?!  It seemed cruel in a way, restraining my baby’s arms and legs as she ferociously fought back (with her surprising strength I might add) in order to free herself from the swaddling mummification I subjected her to, but if kindhearted, crunchy midwives did it,  how wrong could it be????

CONCLUSION:

Did this shit work?  Sometimes…. and sometimes it didn’t.  But when it did, it was HEAVEN. No, MORE than that… it was Johnny Depp, with a dozen roses, courting my stretchmarkless body whilst sitting on a fucking mound of chocolate and champaign goddamnit!!!  In a word, it was SLEEP.  And so, I tried whatever the hell was working at the moment to attain it.  And I lived…. AND I have a mur
der free criminal record.
 You see, for me as a MOM, that’s a WIN.

Sleep tight bitches.








2 thoughts on “Romancing the Sleep

  1. I’m so glad I found your blog! I recently started a ‘mom-blog’ and I have such a snarky tone, I was getting a bit discouraged that I wouldn’t find a place that I fit in. And then I found your hilarious blog! Hooray for your honesty and all the (literal) crap that comes with mommyhood. I look forward to reading regularly. I also added a link to you on our homepage at http://www.3monkeysandamartini.com

  2. I just love you. I work my ass off and raise these kids ( TWO, yes TWO two year olds. Twins. ) I get to read your blogs once in a flipping blue moon if I possibly have a second to myself, and they always make me feel like I am not alone.

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