Uggghhh. “What was that?” I ask myself silently. I don’t dare open an eye for fear that it will cause the smallest inhabitant of my bed to stir. Currently his tiny foot is firmly planted in my chest as he sleeps sideways in our hotel room bed. I pretend that I don’t hear the faint sound, but it occurs again. I feel myself internally whining. “No, no, no! I don’t want to get up!” I have slept so few hours in the past couple days. I’ve walked what feels like a marathon through the happiest place on Earth. I then have an internal argument with myself. “You want to be a mom, and this comes with that territory. Yes, but I don’t think anybody enjoys being sleep deprived!” Back and forth I go. Then, I bury my face deep into the pillow and hope that my husband heard it too. Perhaps he will handle this. I knew that he hadn’t but hoped anyway. The noise happens again, but this time it is undeniable that it is my son. The difference is this time it is much louder.
With the speed of a well trained Olympic athlete, I lurched upwards turning on the light. It reveals a twenty pound little boy covered in his very own vomit. It is a rancid combination of cherry puffs, cheerios, formula, and green beans. My stomach turns, and I know for sure there are just certain parts of parenthood you are never ready for. This has never been my job before. I’ve never been responsible for cleaning up soembody else’s bodily fluids before. My husband bounds out of bed and snags a towel to clean him up. I begin stripping him naked. Without a word, we move together to clean up the mess. I strip the bed and put fresh linens on, while he hops into the shower with the baby.
Once everything and everybody is cleaned and back in bed, I begin to pray that we can all get some shut eye soon. It wasn’t in the cards for us though. In the next two hours I pleaded with my son, begging him to please go to sleep. For those two hours I longed for the nights pre-child, where sleep was a given not a luxury. Then, after being fed a bottle, he slid into dreamland. The alarm clock went off four hours later.
Beeeeep, beeeeep, beeeeep. I desperately want to hit the snooze button, but resist the temptation. Instead, I leave my snoozing husband and child in bed to got eat breakfast. I scarf down my bowl of Cheerios, begin filling up the formula wheel, checking the diaper bag for diapers, wipes, pacifiers, extra shirts, pants, meds, bottles, tissues, and on and on. I hop in the shower for ten minutes of warmth, which leaves me sleepy. Back to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, and then the bathroom to quickly dress, do my hair, and put on makeup. It’s now been an hour, and my son sits himself up in bed and yells, “Hi!” Despite my near exhaustion, I giggle and jump into bed to get a good morning kiss. I pick up the little guy and continue running through the morning…..bath….lotion….diaper…dress…baby food…and then bottle. How is it possible to be this tired already? I plop on the couch to hold the little guy while he drinks his bottle. Admittedly I was distracted and watching the news, when a minute or two into the bottle he pushes the nipple out of his mouth and says, “Ma Ma!” I look down at his smiling face, and instantly tear up. This one tiny moment somehow magically makes all that came before it not as important.
So, if you are waiting to get off the roller coaster, I hate to break this to you….From here on out, it doesn’t stop. For on any one day, you may still go from tears of frustration to tears of joy, cries of irritation to cries of joy, and back and forth. It’s what keeps us guessing, right?
