I am not one who can function well on little sleep. No amount of caffeine can alleviate the wanton urge to close my eyes and drift off to a peaceful slumber. Not even the loudest most irritating alarm can get me out of bed on time. I am grouchy, impatient and often agitated easily when I’m tired. There really is no consoling me aside from just letting me go to sleep.

That? That doesn’t happen with children.

I was hesitant about having children for that very reason. I would have to forgo sleep for an unknown number of years.

Petty right? Don’t have children because they affect my ability to sleep in. Yup. Selfish.

Carter was a great sleeper as an infant. He’d wake to eat, then right back to sleep; he was the baby of my dreams. But as a toddler? He rises and falls with the sun. There isn’t enough coaxing in the world to get that child back in bed once he’s opened his eyes and seen even the faintest amount of light peaking from behind the blinds.

Doesn’t bode well with a person who loves to sleep.

Then throw an infant into the mix and I’m a walking zombie most days.

Every morning Hudson wakes at 6:30am; I quickly gather him from his bassinet (STILL IN OUR ROOM because Mike isn’t ready for him to move into his crib. *sigh*) and pull him into me as my lay in my bed, hoping not to stir Carter just yet, I quickly shove a boob in his mouth to smother his coos and squawks for food.

But my efforts are usually futile since Carter has hawk like senses and is up and jumping from the bed before Hudson even gets a latch. Seriously, that kid could hear a penny drop about 6 blocks away.

The door opens with a creak from the years of paint on the jam: then silence. Waiting for another sound, he stands in his doorway. As soon as he hears something, anything he comes running to my room, It’s wake up time Mommy! he states. Every. Single. Morning. Then he questions, Where’s Daddy? I don’t know if he expects that the answer will differ each day; but without fail, he asks.

I fade in and out of consciousness as I try and play defense. Keeping Carter from poking and tickling (which is more like shoving his needle-like fingertips into your gut) Hudson while he eats is like trying to separate a PMSing woman from chocolate. I try to coax him from the room with Hot Wheels waiting for him in the living room, or sending him to go pee - just to buy myself a couple extra minutes; but he is relentless.

I’m up. I’m up!

Once Hudson’s finished we all make our way downstairs. Hudson gets placed in his swing, the television is tuned into Dora, orange juice and Nutrigrain bar are distributed while the coffee brews. I plunk myself down in the overstuffed arm chair waiting for that sweet beep telling me my lifeline is prepared for injection. Sweet delicious coffee.

As I sip my coffee and peruse The Blogs while we relax, I peek over the top of my laptop to see Carter sitting peacefully on the couch, fingers threaded behind his head, lounging back on the sofa: the baby seeing his fingers for the first time, mezmorized in his swing.

They ain’t half bad these early mornings.

:::

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Down and dirty. Is that kinda like short and sweet? Because if it is, that’s what I mean and if it’s not just ignore me.

Hold me.

I’m scared.

Today. Friday (if this automatic posting doo-dad works) is Carter’s third birthday. I wasn’t weepy about past birthdays but I think with Hudson’s arrival this year is different and I’m sad that he’s three. Really sad.

My boys.

Maybe I’ll have more about that later, not right now. I can’t.

I’m too fuckin’ scared for my life.

While you’re reading this (if the automatic posting worked correctly) I am packed into a trolley-type-bus with about 120 children ranging in age from 2 - 6 and some parents. We’re probably baking in the hot hot sun and endured a couple of meltdowns already.

Pray for me.

Carter’s daycare has a field trip to this makeshift safari type place where baboons rip the trim off your car and eat your windshield wipers while smearing their ass across your windshield and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.

I thought it would be nice to volunteer since it’s his birthday and all.

Send. Booze.

Copious amounts.

:::

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As I remove the carseat from the back of the car and click it into the stroller my mind begins to race.

Where will I go?

How can I do this without being seen?

Will there be somewhere to relax?

How can I avoid people seeing?

I dread every second.

The baby begins to cry and my heart begins to race. I feel the sweat, the dread.

I pick him up and hold him close. I gather the necessities: the receiving blanket, diaper and wipes.

I walk.

I open the door and search for the biggest area that is private. Sealed off from seeing eyes.

I close the door behind me and  I sit on the floor.

The floor of a public washroom where I feed my baby.

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Walking to the living room I could hear Carter talking in a hushed tone. Mike was still awake from his night shift, they were laying on the couch together. As I walked around the corner, Hudson in my arms, I was greeted with smiles and good mornings.

Mike said he stayed up a little longer so I could get some sleep. Carter woke just as he was heading to bed so he stayed with him.

I felt grateful that he understood how exhausted I am and maybe even what the past two weeks have been like since he started working nights. Trying to keep a toddler quite throughout the day is harder then turning down chocolate; and how much fun can it be for Carter to have his mother nagging all day to use his “indoor voice”? Not to mention COMPLETELY stressful for me.

Our house isn’t that large and sound carries quite easily. Vacuuming and carrying out regular daily chores is near impossible as Mike is a light sleeper. Showers are held off until later in the day. The baby is shushed and given a soother to quite the coos. The dishwasher and laundry wait until the evening and Carter is taken out to the backyard where he can run, play and speak without being hushed.

Let’s just say it hasn’t been easy.

This morning, since he was still awake, Mike agreed to take Carter to daycare (since he goes three days a week - Monday, Wednesday and Friday) before heading off to bed. This gave me the opportunity to feed Hudson and relax just a little without being converted into an indoor playground, which was just about the highlight of my day.

As Mike turned off the television to get Carter upstairs to dress, the blissful morning memories were swiftly erased by screaming, crying and snot.

Carter completely lost his shit.

That’s when it became apparent he had obviously not slept well.

He screaming and protested throughout getting dressed, getting his teeth brushed, getting in the car and all the way to daycare.

He was hysterical to the point where he could no longer talk. The tears and snot were flowing while he screamed he wanted to wear pants because it was going to snow. Yes. Snow. Don’t ask because I don’t have answers. Absolutely nothing would calm this child and as awful as I felt, I had NEVER been so grateful for Mike offering to take him.

I was really not looking forward to this evening since I was alone with the two boys but thankfully he napped at daycare and was in a somewhat better mood.

Normal bedtime activities ensued, I tucked him in, said good night and closed the door.

He started whailing, almost like the morning.

I opened the door - I know, never open the door! - and asked what was wrong.

Struggling to breathe through the tears: “I forgot to give you a kiss!” he huffed.

I bent down and hugged him as he planted a snotty tear soaked kiss on my lips.

“I love you mommy!” he said as he settled back on the pillow.

My heart swelled and tears formed in my eyes as I closed the door.

Those meltdowns I can handle.