Pity party for one?
I feel sorry for me, and I hate that.
Claire had a pretty bad cold Friday night into Saturday, which in turn led me to call off for the first 8 hours of my shift. Why would I call off? Here’s a brief look at what I went through.
At 11 o’clock Friday night, Claire and I were sitting on the couch watching Yo Gabba Gabba. This is the kid who puts herself to bed if it’s past 9.
At 11:30, she rolls over, looks at me, says, “Mama, I sick.”
At Midnight we turn on the Pops station on the satellite and attempt to sleep.
At 12:15 I have an elbow in my neck and a stinky foot in my eye.
I managed to get her to go to sleep in her bed from 12:30 to 1 without much difficulty.
Enter 1 AM.
She was up every half hour screaming bloody murder, then looking at me (who was sleeping next to her, or attempting to) and saying, “Cuddle Mama, I sick.”
Flash forward to last night. Luca and his snotty nose. Who is he and why is he not like Claire one bit? Oh yah, because he’s the second child. We are notorious for being awesome and tend to fly under the radar. This is the kid who was hit by Claire with a rubber mallet when she was ‘rotating her tires’ on her trike. The kid who pulled himself to stand using a wheel and busted his little tooth through his bottom lip. That kid. All this, and NO EXTRA FUSS.
So when he was up A LOT before midnight, I felt so bad. He could only sleep sitting up. I can sympathize. When I was pregnant with Claire, I could only breathe when sitting up, so the last few weeks I spent pregnant with her was spent sleeping sitting up.
But here’s the magical thing. After midnight, it was like he said to himself, “Body, quit producing snot. Brain, shut down now,” and he slept! I mean, sure, he was still up every two or so hours, but that’s almost normal for him.
Now I’m sick. (I know boo hoo.) The worst part, though is that Matt’s on a business trip, so no extra sleep for me. No help during the middle of the night. And no breaks. How the hell do single mothers do it?!?
At the point in time, Luca is full of pears, milk, Motrin, and his vitamin.
Claire is full of peanut butter sandwich and pear merlot juice (it’s JUICE, NOT ALCOHOL…made from the finest merlot grapes in California, thank you Bolthouse Farms.)
Both kids are slathered in Vicks Baby Rub and I’m spent.