[:en]A Typical Morning in the Life of a Supermom[:]

[:en]It’s summertime! Which means: sleeping in til noon, sunbathing by the pool, dancing around a campfire, traveling to exotic locations….

OH WAIT, I’m a MOM. I don’t do any of those things.  It’s seven in the morning and I just listened to my husband’s alarm go off for the umpteenth time in half an hour.  How he can sleep through that without budging an eyelash is quite possibly one of life’s greatest mysteries.  Alas, it will be me to shake the wild shit out of him until he either angrily yells out that he’s awake (you’re welcome?) or gently rolls over for a morning thrill. No, I do not want to be touched right now. In the four hours since getting home from my night shift job, I (1.) nursed a toddler who thinks my tits are his personal chew toys, (2.) consoled a preschooler while cleaning and changing wets sheets and blankets, (3.) cleaned whatever the hell crap I stepped into that wasn’t on the kitchen floor when I left for work, (4.) took the time to investigate the odd substance I once again find smeared on the hallway walls, (5.) decide it was just some experimental government goo put there to help better keep tabs on me during my trials of sleep deprivation rather than face the logical explanation that it is in fact shit smeared about from the open diaper at the end of the hallway.

I’m not in a logical state of mind right now. I’ve slept less than six of the previous 48 hours and hopes are slowly diminishing of adding to that total today. So I ignore the mess; the dishes caked with food, the forbidden toys on my once clean kitchen floor, the basket of clean laundry now littering my child’s room, and I sleep.

Well, that’s the plan.
The reality is, I lie down and close my eyes.  After the avalanche of thoughts and to do’s pulse through my pounding head, I fall into the sweetest hour of sleep my body has grasped at for days, only to be woken by the sound of a thousand screaming souls squeeling at me from the depths of hell. They beg me to help them, but I dare not reach a hand, because I know it is simply just a muse; a gimmick to grab me and never let go.  Huh? What? Crap, no, it’s just my child again.  Waking from a nightmare and wanting to sleep with me. Fine. Climb in. Next to me and the baby who until now was finally deep in peaceful slumber.  I’ll just roll to my side and suck in my four month pregnant belly to accommodate the extra people on my half of this queen size bed. Oh wait, my third of this queen size bed since my husband is currently stretched out over the rest. Typical. No worries though. I can make this work. I WILL get some sleep. Right? Sure. If this were a paradox universe perhaps. Today however it is not. Today, I will listen to the demands of the alarm sound off at regular intervals as to allow *just* enough time to quickly fall back asleep before the horns blast and my blood pressure hits the ceiling. (Honestly though, I’m waiting for the inevitable day when this truly happens).  This sick cruel torture method that seems to only affect me. Wait, is that government goo in here watching me right now??
So no, sorry dearly beloved of mine, if today, nipple deep in a toddler with a preschool girl’s legs sprawled across my face, I’m not exactly in the mood for a morning rendezvous in the shower.  Go shower alone. Or better yet, let ME shower alone, because I don’t remember the last time I closed the bathroom door to wipe my ass much less shave my legs in the company of myself and only me.
Okay, so maybe I’m overreacting a bit. After all, I’m EXHAUSTED. No problem though. It’s summertime! I’ll just roll back over and get some sleep, right? Guess again. Now the older kids are awake. They surely know how to poor a bowl of cereal so I’ll sit this one out. What’s that noise? Is that….glass breaking? It’s okay, it’s fine, I’ll clean it later….but what if the baby gets up before me and steps on a shard of glass. Crap.  I’ll get up and clean it. Cleaned. Good. Disaster averted. While I’m up, the kids are asking for eggs.  Mom’s too tired today boys, have some oatmeal instead. The disappointed looks leached on their faces tell me I need to make some damn eggs. Fine. I’ll make some eggs, but THEN I’m going back to sleep. “But mom, eggs don’t taste good without bacon.” I can’t even argue there. Okay, I’ll fry up some bacon.  May as well pop some bread in the toaster and cut some strawberries while I’m at it. There, a well rounded healthy breakfast for my beautiful children. I’ll just set the youngsters plates in the microwave then take a quick nap.
Nope. Half a footstep into my bedroom is enough for the baby to sense the impending doom of having to wake before me. He will save the day by making sure NO ONE remains sleeping. After all, there’s a sliver of sunlight peeking in through the sides of my dark, sun resistant curtains. It’s playtime! Well I tried.
Maybe I’ll sleep in tomorrow?



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