9 Hours in the Life of a Fatigued Mother

I went to bed last night amidst my allergy-infused-fake coughing that just won’t seem to go away and thought “perhaps tonight I’ll get a full night’s sleep.”

Alas, it was not to be. For the past three nights, one or the other of my children, has woken up crying for some reason at the unseemly hour of 5:30 a.m. Gideon has wet through his overnight diapers all three nights, and Scarlett’s cutting teeth.

For that matter, never introduce a teething 11-month old to black beans. I just cleaned up the nastiest mess that reminded me of infant liquid poop…all through her diaper, pants, up her back…you remember the routine. I couldn’t figure out why her nap only lasted 1 hour and a half when it’s the only one she’ll get today.

And, as soon as I’d gotten her cleaned up and bathed, I heard music coming from Gideon…who was also supposed to be sleeping…and he usually takes a 3-hour nap. Not today. Of course not. He, too, fell victim to the black beans, and sadly enough, neither of my children will sleep through a poop-infested diaper. I wouldn’t either, but that’s not the point. I cleaned up his foul mess and then just sank to their floor, willing the afternoon away.

It’s not even 2:00 and I’m exhausted. I just want to lie down and shut my eyes. Jeff won’t be home for another 3 hours, and these children are only going to get crankier and crankier as the afternoon wears on. They don’t do well (much like their mother) without all of their required sleep.

I put them in their room where they’re supposed to be nicely playing. I don’t hear “nice” going on, so I’m afraid my tired rant must end. Back to mothering I must go.