Baby Girl lies to me daily. With emphasis. She insists that she is NOT tired, not at all, not even just a tiny little bit. Then why are you crying? I ask. “NOT because I’m tiredddddddd” she moans.
Girl you were born tired. You haven’t slept right in six years. Neither have I. I KNOW tiredness. You, my child, are the epitome of tired. You almost have me beat in the tiredness game but not quite. I’m more tired than you because I’m in more pain than you. Because I’m old. Because I was old when you were born.
Baby Girl also has severe FOMO. Fear Of Missing Out. She can hardly stand to make decisions because she can’t decide which route will lead to the better time. The more fun experience. Does she come with me to run errands – which I can assure you is never fun – or does she stay and hang out with Dylan in the barn? She wants to be with me – she wants to be sure I don’t do something fun without her. Buuuuuttttttt she knows the girls at the barn are always accommodating to her. She is the princess of the paddock y’all. Everyone accommodates her. She’s cute and she loves hanging out with people. Possibly everyone is really accommodating ME by keeping her out of my hair…. hmmm. If that’s the case then I’m grateful. Supremely.
At any rate, Baby Girl has red eyes and a quick temper – every minute of her life. She certainly looks tired. And 80% of the time she acts tired. She yawns a lot. She falls asleep in the car but she won’t take a nap. The other day I bribed her with “movie night” in my bed if she would just lay down with me in my bed at 1 pm. I watched YouTube Kids with her for twenty minutes as part of the bribe (heaven help me). We took a “sleepy pill” (melatonin). We listened to Alan Jackson. She finally did fall asleep and slept for almost two hours. Of course, then I was unable to get her to sleep that night until 10 pm. You can’t win for losing.
Each night she starts to spin in a downward spiral of exhaustion. We have our routine down pretty well but it doesn’t slow the spin. After I finally get her out of the bath it starts in earnest (many times it starts while still in the bath.) She starts out with whining that she is cold, her hair is dripping down her back, she needs me to help her get dressed. Somehow she’ll manage to hurt herself – stub her toe or scratch something. Then… it’s the giggles. She laughs while I try to put her pj’s on. She shows me her booty. She farts and is hysterical. She makes me crazy, and let’s acknowledge it – pissed off. So I finally lose it and yell at her. Her eyes fill with tears and she runs off to hide.
Now, I ask you, if she knows this is what will happen why does she do it? When we finally get past that, I have to tell her twelve times to brush her teeth. To pick out her stories. She likes to have stories on the computer lately. But if anything, and I mean anything, is not to her liking, total meltdown ensues. And again, I get frustrated. I would like to have a few minutes of sweet snuggling with my Baby Girl, not tears and rage from this wee monster child. I’m tired too so we feed off each other, I’m sure.
Maybe I would be able to handle all that if it weren’t for… the fact that she also GETS UP at 6 am every day. EVERY DAY. Even now that I have her sleeping in her own bed, in her own room. If she hears me make a move she’s up like a shot. I’ve even moved the cat into the back room at night so that he won’t start yowling and wake either of us up. It helps. A little. I want to get up to go to the gym by myself. I much prefer going by myself – it’s that “me time” everyone talks about so much that I hardly ever get. Well Baby Girl does not want me to go by myself. I get my cup of ice water ready the night before, my clothes are laid out, my shoes by the door. So I can sneak out silently before she hears me. (Insert eye roll here). I make it to the gym maybe twice a week, and at least one of those times she’s with me. Y’all it just isn’t as much fun when I have to keep looking over and checking on her.
And even if I don’t aim to get up early and go she wakes up anyway. It’s just hardwired in her. Her brain just knows there’s got to be something more interesting to do than sleep. 9 times out of 10 she wakes me up, too. Wait, no. 10 times out of 10. Who am I kidding?
So here we are, mother and child. Both exhausted, all the time. I’m so tired I’ve almost given up drinking.
Almost.
Plus, she is so cute when she’s asleep.
