Excuses, Excuses

"I was potty training."

It's a legitimate excuse for the way my house looks today, the fact that dinner was late and not very balanced or healthy, and why my patience is worn thread-bare thin.

If you've ever potty trained a toddler, you get it.

If you haven't...you're seriously missing out.

Because it is just so much darn fun.

In other news...I don't know how to say this without sounding like a weirdo, but I think one of the cutest things you will ever see in this world is little plump, bare, two-year old bum cheeks running around the house.

A close second is little plump, two-year old bum cheeks in teeny-tiny, brand-new, "big girl" panties running around the house.

Adorable.

Death by Sleep Deprivation

My birthday is in exactly one month. I've been pondering on how I can use this one special day of the year devoted to me to my advantage. What goodie or favor or item have I been desperately wanting, but denying myself because of the sacrificial nature of being a mom?

It didn't take me long to figure it out.

A nap.

All I want is a stupid nap. Two, maybe three, hours of uninterrupted sleep. No children, no sunlight, no fighting, no phone calls, no requests, no demands, no noise. No nothing.

Just me. My pillow. And the back of my eyelids.

Is that really too much to ask for? Do I really have to wait until April 18th to get what I most want--nay, NEED?! I can't even remember what it feels like to be "well-rested". Isn't sleep one of those unalienable rights or something? Air, water, love, food, SLEEP.

Taking a nap when I'm on single parent duty is just...impossible. But even when Joe's around...it's still somehow impossible. My mom sense never shuts off. I am on high alert all the time. Not by choice. I try to set it on auto-pilot as I prop my children in front of the TV, make my way to my bedroom, shut my eyes, and just chill out. Willing myself to sleep. Just struggling to relax enough to drift into unconsciousness.

Most of the time it doesn't happen. And then on the rare occasion it does...Well, you can imagine what happens. Someone gets hungry or hurt or bored and comes looking for mom. Even if Dad is sitting right there! Or more usually, laying on the couch beside the children, sleeping peacefully, absolutely unaware of the world. Eventually I just give up, get up, and try not to be worked up about it.

Night time isn't any better. In fact, it's worse. We don't have a newborn in the house. Heck! We don't even have a baby anymore! Yet a full night of rest has never seemed further from my clutches.

Every night plays out the same.

Around 11 pm, the six year old begins wandering around the house in a sleep-dazed stupor, not awake enough to make any audible sense, yet not asleep enough to be immobile.

After taking her to the bathroom and leading her back to bed, we make our way to bed. When my husband is around, he can fall asleep in 0.003 seconds flat. You think I exaggerate. No. I've actually timed it before. He can barely get the words "good night" out before the snoring begins.

And oh, good grief, the snoring.

There is this movie from the 1980s called "War of the Roses". I only saw one scene when I was a teenager. A feuding husband and wife are laying in bed. The man is snoring, the woman is glaring at him with murder in her eyes. Suddenly, she crams her fingers up his nostrils in a last ditch attempt to make the snoring stop.

I can't help but think of that scene so vividly every single night as I listen to my husband snoring.

Must...control...fingers...

Eventually, I'm able to fall asleep, in spite of the ear- and nerve-shattering reverberation.

And just as soon as I've settled into a good sleep pattern, the two year old stirs. Not enough to be truly awake. Just enough to truly wake me up. I lay in bed and listen as she squirms and moans, settling back into a peaceful slumber.

And again I'm left to myself. And the snoring.

Finally, I prod and will myself back to sleep. And then the six year old wanders in shivering with terror from nighttime anxiety. It is no easy feat to calm her down. It can take hours.

By then, I'm out of patience, if not just out of my mind with exhaustion. And I am not a good mom at this unearthly hour. I say and do stupid things in a last ditch effort to just get some bloody sleep. Last night's gem: "If you don't stop crying right now and go to sleep, I will make you sleep in the basement all by yourself. I'm totally serious!" (And I'm totally not.)  Stupid.

This goes on all night. The snoring husband, the restless toddler, the four year old with the occasional bed wetting accident, the anxiety ridden six year old. And just when it all winds down...It is nearly 5 am and the early bird eight year old springs out of bed, ready to take on the day, convinced everyone else is as eager to do the same.

Those teen pregnancy PSA ads should say this: "Sex lasts a moment. Sleep deprivation lasts your whole life."

If only I'd known. If only I had known.

Croup Happens. As Does Pink Eye.

So Cee has croup.

Elle has a lingering cough that keeps her and Jeigh awake at night.

Dee has a tooth growing in on top of a baby tooth that has decided it's staying put.

And Jeigh has a black eye.

Oh wait. Make that a black eye AND a pink eye.

Pink eye. Awesome.

I thought this week was starting to get kind of crazy. And then last night happened.

It. was. horrific.

Cee in her croupy discomfort tossed and turned and wheezed and cried with every cough. She didn't want to sleep in her bed. She didn't want to sleep in my bed. Or in the recliner. Or in her bed with me beside her. In fact she didn't/couldn't really sleep at all.

She would sleep for about twenty minutes at a time and then wake up upset and in pain or struggling to breathe. That or one of her restless siblings would turn on a light or come looking for her or me and wake her up again.

I couldn't do anything for her. I would try to cuddle her, but she'd wriggle away or kick me. I'd try to give her medicine and she'd bat it away. I'd try to leave her be and she would get even more upset.

By 2:30 am, I couldn't take it anymore. We had already been through a couple of restless nights. Multiple children were crying at once. Every time Cee would cough and cry, her roommate, Dee, would start crying, convinced she was going to die. I felt so powerless and short-fused. I'll admit it. I am not a good mom after 1 am and on so little sleep. I was quickly loosing my cool. After many frustrated prayers, I had no idea what to do or who to ask what to do.

So I called my husband. Who was sleeping peacefully in a motel five hours away.

Poor man.

Can you imagine being woken at 2:30 am by a hysterical wife with four crying children in the background?

He did his best talking to the kids over the phone trying to calm them down and allay their fears. He let me cry and vent to him too. He never complained. He didn't even try to end the conversation quickly. He gave us what he could from where he was.

And I sure love him for that.

The rest of the night was just as restless. The older kids finally fell asleep, but Cee never did sleep longer than 20 to 30 minutes at a time. But at least I was able to endure it without going crazy.

Today I feel like a character from The Walking Dead, although I can't decide if I'm a Walker or someone who is just hanging on, trying to survive.

Later in the day I discovered the Pink Eye Plague had claimed its second victim. Poor Cee.

We're dropping like flies around here. Stay away if you want to live.