A Day in the Life

Let me please preface this post with how much I love being a mother. It truly is the most joyous experience. I have never felt such unconditional love. It is the most rewarding job one can undertake. All the happy horseshit people tell you is true. It is absolutely true.

That being said, I spent twenty minutes scrubbing the bathroom while muttering venomous, hateful things under my breath. Not about the baby, of course. No, I was muttering in general about people who make my life more difficult. Like, people who knock at my door continuously when I am desperately trying to put the baby (and myself) down for a nap.  

Let's back up a little. I have had about 3 hours of broken sleep each night for the past week. This has been due to, teething baby, the passing away of old friends, general anxiety, and the beat goes on. Today, the baby is teething (four teeth at once) and she had shots. Her Tylenol had just kicked in and we were both on the cusp of what promised to be a good hour of snooze time.

Who else was I muttering about? Oh, random customer service representatives that I have to deal with about various issues. The total lack of a baby sitter in my life. The fact that now that baby is deep into the separation anxiety phase it's a bad time to even think about finding said sitter.

I'm tired and bitchy.

I then spent the next twenty minutes scrubbing my baby. During this scrubbing I muttered soothing prayers to the universe to send me loving, helpful individuals. Did I mention the baby also has diarrhea and it's been a real down home poop fest lately. So, I scrubbed her and lotion-ed her and chanted soothing, helpful, loving prayers to the Gods.


I should probably mention that I've been threatening to run away and check into a hotel for a few days now. When I make the threat I pretty much state that I am,
"Running away and checking into a fucking hotel for three days".
It just makes me feel better to say it. I'm sure after three hours I would want to come home.

Now, back to topic... After the muttering and chanting and scrubbing and lotion-ing we came dowstairs to watch the "Sprout Goodnight Show". Yes, I know real highbrow shit. Don't get me wrong I love Nina and Star they can usually get the job done.

I worry about Nina. It must be incredibly difficult to smile so big and be so perky while teaching that fat star puppet Spanish. I bet when Nina goes home at night she does a huge wodge of heroin to cope. Perhaps she's a binge and purge control freak. It's something, I can see it in her eyes.


Oh, if at any point you want to interject that I should be reading my child bedtime stories instead of letting her watch the boob tube, f off. We are in a phase right now in which if you open a book in the baby's presence she goes rabid and tries to destroy it. Trust, I wish I could read her a book.

The line up on "The Goodnight Show" is super mind numbing. Hence the fact it can knock out babies. There is this one show called Caillou. Man, I want to punch that kid in the face. I remember thinking to myself how much I wanted to punch that kid and, wondering why he sucked so much. Then the credits came up and I saw the show is made in Quebec. Fucking Canadians...Serioulsy though, he speaks in the most awful little baby- waby voice. If Ava ever talks like that we are going to have issues. The kind of issues only a speech therapist can sort out.

Then I look to my right and see Ava's big cheeky smile, loving that fat star puppet and it's all worth it.



Amen