This past week I finished a project that had me coming home Wednesday night from NYC at 1:30 am. I turned off my son’s alarm in hopes we could all sleep in, miss the bus, and I could bring him to school late. (How much really gets done in the first 2 hours of first grade anyways?)
So – of course – Sam came into my room at 6:30 am.
If I play dead maybe he will leave.
“Mom!!” he said louder.
“Hhmmp.” I grumbled.
“Mom – I can see your butt crack and your underwear.”
Somebody make him stop talking!!!
“Mom, do you know there’s something you can buy that goes on under your shirt…..it covers your butt and your belly.”
“Hmmm, Hmmm.” I answered.
“and even if you reach high up for something on a high shelf…..your belly and butt still don’t show…….you should buy it.”
So while I was gone – he has seen extensive infomercials…….I’m up. Today is going to be horrible.
So that day was rough. I was so tired I felt sick. The feeling was very familiar – like a feeling I had long ago in a past life…..
When did I feel this bad before??
Oh right, it was the time I spent 4 years straight either pregnant and/or breastfeeding a newborn. That was the kind of tired that nobody can explain to you. It was just sleep deprivation to the core of your soul that takes years to recover from. That period of time did irreparable damage to my body and soul.
What I learned this week is that I’m too old for this shit.
I think that little 4-year stint really did a number on me – and now I NEED SLEEP.
When I was done breastfeeding my second child, close to 5 years ago!!! I told Mr. Gaga I would never wake up in the night again. I explained to him that I had done my duties and now I needed to sleep. He kind of agreed or ignored me or something – but what he didn’t realize (I didn’t realize it either to be honest) is that at that moment – something in my brain and my eardrums clicked off.
I never woke up in the night again.
I cannot be woken up.
It’s a problem.
A few months into this new development, I remember coming downstairs to see a glaring Mr. Gaga.
“Aren’t mothers supposed to have some sort of maternal instincts that make them want to help their kids?” he asked with disgust.
“Um yeah – why?” I asked with trepidation.
“Well last night Sam called for you like 30 times, and you never came. Then he gave up and started calling for Dora to save him….don’t you think that’s a problem?”
“What? I had no idea!! I didn’t hear him!!” I protested.
That was like 4 years ago – and things have not gotten better.
When we have stayed at my parents’ house overnight I share a room with Sam (who has night terrors and screams bloody murder every night.) Needless to say I sleep right through all of his shenanigans.
My father who is in his 60’s, exhausted, and sleeps on another floor of the house with his door shut – will come running in from his room in the middle of the night.
“LADY!! LADY!!” he will yell at me to wake up.
“Sam has been screaming and crying for like 15 minutes!!! Don’t you hear him??”
I think we all know the answer to that question.
The icing on the cake was when we went away last year with my brother and his wife and daughter. One of the nights we didn’t have enough room; so Mr. Gaga and I slept on the couches in the living room and the kids slept on an air-mattress right in front of the couch.
Like an inch away.
So the next morning, I heard rustling in the kitchen. I hopped up, stretched and made my way to the coffee. The kids were eating with my brother and his family.
My brother looked at me with disgust when I sat down at the table.
“What?” I asked.
“You are a horrible mother.” he said with disdain.
I am used to these kind of negative remarks from him, so I wasn’t too fazed.
“Why now?” I asked with boredom perusing the morning paper.
“Well – when Sam screamed at the top of his lungs for 20 minutes right next to your face and you didn’t wake up – I decided to come out and help him.”
“Oh thanks.” I said.
“Yeah – great – except that when I leaned down to tuck him into his blankets, I realized that your tank top was askew and your entire boob was out.”
I choked on my coffee and spit it out with laughter.
“Oh, sorry about that.”
Let’s face it – nobody wants to wake up for someone else’s kid in the first place – and on top of that – nobody wants to see their sister’s boob.
To add insult to injury it’s not like my boobs are like Pamela Anderson’s! As I have mentioned before – my children have deformed my body from top to bottom – but my boobs have taken the greatest hit.
Alas, this whole motherhood situation is exhausting, and apparently I cannot survive without a solid night’s sleep anymore. It will take me three weeks to recover from that week in New York.
I keep realizing new ways in which I am old…….and tired.
Will we ever not be tired again? Or is this the end of the road?
Will we wake up at 50 and like Oprah say “I feel great – I’ve never felt better!”?
I have a sneaking suspicion….that only happens to Oprah.
I know you probably don’t want to vote for someone who flashes her brother and ignores her children’s cries for help – but I am helping everyone around me to develop strong coping mechanisms!!! Please click the banner below!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA