Losing It

I lost it last night. Really, Lost it.

The problem may lye in the fact that I have had just 1 single full, 8 hour-in-a-row, night sleep in 10 months and 11 days.

Part of it certainly had to do with PMS. More of it had to do with the fact that I had only been asleep for around 30 minutes. Not long, yet enough to be enjoying the start of a gorgeous deep slumber.

Then Kaya cried. Bal tried to get her. Tried to soothe her and get her to sleep. But his methods are far different from mine (he, unfortunately, does not have boobs to cram in her mouth!) His include switching positions in her crib, replacing the soother, then him running back to our bed (where I am trying to fall back asleep) in a sort of deluded hope that she will miraculously fall right back asleep. After numerous attempts (so numerous times getting into and out of the bed I am trying to go back to sleep in) he finally surrenders and picks Kaya up. Upon doing so, he attempts a new method. The turning-on-the-lights-that-glows-brightly-directly-into-the-mom(who is still trying to fall back asleep)-method. It does not work. Kaya wants to party. Me, I just want to scream.

So eventually that’s what I do. After about the 435th Daddy attempt, I storm out of bed, yelling and mumbling and pouting that it’s not fair that I have to be the only one in the world who can calm her down. I also hit a wall. Well, not hit really. Slap. Yah, I’m one bad mother-f%*&^* (okay, just one bad mother…) I totally bitch slapped that wall.

Then I go into Kaya’s room where upon my thunderous and stormy entrance, I am greeted with a huge, behind the soother, smile. I am amused but try really, really hard not to be. I pick her up and carry on a running, mumbling, commentary on how obnoxious it is that to put her to sleep I need to lay with her in the spare room that DOES NOT HAVE ON ANY FREAKIN SHEETS. So here I am, annoyed, exhausted, fed up and making the bed in the middle of the night.

It’s the first time I have attempted to make a bed holding onto a baby. She watches me as if I’m Rick Mercer giving one of his highly amusing rants. Nothing I am saying is particularly funny but just try to tell that to a 10 month old baby who is tickled pink to be up with her mom in the middle of the night.

Plunking her in the middle of the bed, I get 2 corners fitted. The 3rd is slightly more difficult what with the big lump-o’ baby in the middle. No worries though, she is beyond delighted and begins giggling at this fascinating game. Eventually the bed is made and I crawl in with Kaya. We lay down, I close my eyes and the next hour I drift in and out of sleep as Kaya kicks, bangs, slaps and pulls on several of my body parts. She’s having a great time and I get moments of sleep. At one point I wake up to her pulling on my lip. It slaps back to my mouth and I involuntarily make a spitty-spurting noise. Kaya lets out a huge giggle. Which should, come to think of it, be the only cure-all required for all depression and anger. Baby Giggles. Do you think I could market that in a box somehow?

Anyways, I digress. So, of course, I giggle back. And start blowing on her belly (what’s that called?) so she giggles more and I giggle even more. Eventually she tires, as do I, and we fall asleep contently until 7:30 this morning whereby I am greeted with her gazing upon me like this is the coolest thing EVER- waking up face to face with my mommy!

Mommy-hood is not an easy endeavour. I did lose it. Perfection, funnily enough, eludes me. I swore and bitched and marched out of bed. But then my daughter smiled. Followed by some giggles. And I immediately lost the losing it.


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