I put the water bottle in her room so she wouldn’t ask for it at 3 am like the night before. I thought I had it made. “I’m gonna sleep like a baby tonight!”
Faint words began to interrupt my dream. Moments later, I’m up.
She didn’t need more water this time, she needed less.
How could I be so falsely bold to think this couldn’t happen?
Her sheet was wet. Her overnight diaper got too full.
Hey, at least my kid is hydrated, right?
Why am I more comical the second time around, while early yesterday morning I wrote about the endless Groundhog Day of sleepless nights as a parent?
Well, for one, and I’m embarrassed to say this—in the dream I was having, I was at an outdoor party and was about to take a selfie but first saw how frizzy my hair was and was about to reach for my water bottle to get some water to tamper down the frizz—I caught myself in quite a vain moment in that dream!
The dream itself wasn’t as dreamy as I would have liked anyway—it was a a bit irksome—so I suppose it wasn’t the worse thing to get out of. Though I was curious how it was going to play out.
There was also just this air of comedy about it all. Getting woken up a second time in a row. It was so depressing and heart wrenching, that somehow it turned into comedy, it became amusing.
And I have to admit, I can sleep in a bit tomorrow since I don’t have my job. And by tomorrow, I mean today—technically.
I suppose I just woke up on the right side of the bed this time around. I mean I not only changed her sheet, I found her missing cuddle toy and fixed her plastic flower building game—ok she did the latter, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how. Haven’t done that game yet with her, and at 3 am I’m not gonna start to learn!
I’m so lucky I can sleep in today. I wish our world carved out a space for over-burdened, exhausted parents.
Or maybe, if we find ourselves in that category, and are financially capable to do so, we carve out the time ourselves—as in the title of my next blog—If you can’t keep up, maybe you’re not supposed to.
In any case, there’s no way I’m silently suffering as a parent. I feel for all those sleep-deprived superhumans out there who somehow still have energy to give to the world and love to pour into their child from a glass not nearly half full on some days.
Perhaps I am spoiled. This is life. This is parenting.
Ok, I know I’m spoiled.
But what can I do?
I’m blessed as heck to have a child, for years I dreamt of having a family and raising a child. I know how lucky I am. And I’m also quite fortunate to have a financial cushion that allows me to take a day off and sleep in.
When you take a step back and look at all the factors, I’m far from suffering.
But on the ground, I’m a person who’s always needed sleep who’s sleep is getting interrupted far too many times. And I’m a person who needs mental (and physical) space for self-expression or else I feel like I’m gonna explode.
And these two things often conflict with the needs of parenting.
Anyway, I digress.
I’m going back to bed. The point is, I survived another episode of “Life of Parent.” I didn’t lose my cool with my kid as I searched for her final cuddle toy while she meticulously and lovingly lined up her others just right, before she head back to bed. (So sweet!)
The real sufferer seems to be kitty. She doesn’t know what to do with herself. Poor thing—it’s not breakfast time yet!
Eh, she’ll it figure it out!
Back to bed!