mama doesn't get a day off

- all efforts at night weaning had been going well, i'd actually say we were night-weaned, until sprout got sick and quickly became dehydrated and of course the only thing he wanted was the boob and of course i'm not hardcore enough to push a bottle of almond milk at my 22 month old when he's sick, so i caved. in two nights i undid two weeks worth of progress.

- this morning. mom fail. by 6:00 am i just didn't want him to nurse again and he's well enough now that he doesn't have to, i mean i'm still pushing liquids after a UTI scare yesterday but he didn't have to nurse. but he wanted to. so i put some fussy baby glycerite on the boobs to avert him (it's fennel seed and glycerin for those curious) and it only worked for a minute. it had been my trick and it had been working before he got sick but he was determined, so he just played with the bottle of almond milk and demanded boob again. when i offered it, in hopes of reminding him that he did not want, he actually did want. and ugh.

- i let him nurse a bit and then got up to make myself a cup of coffee because i literally cannot function without it and my new 7:00 am wake-up time is now 6:00 am anyway (long gone are the days of staying in bed until 8:00 or 9:00 but being perpetually exhausted and more a functioning night owl, as they say, means i have no creative time because i'm dog ass tired by 9:00 at night).

- he cried. he screamed. he did want to go back to sleep without my boob next to him so awesomepapa got up but couldn't console him. he hung out with the two young boys for a few minutes and then mama guilt got the best of me so i nursed the sprout one more time and now we're all up for the day. they are playing happily in the bedroom, and i'm in here bemoaning the fact that there's never enough. not enough time. not enough sleep. not enough peace and quiet.

i know, shut up. that's what you get when you sign up for motherhood. especially times three.

that doesn't mean i can't feel sorry for myself every now and then.

i'll tell you a story...

a long time ago, before i was even 21, when i was just the single mom to one little boy, a friend and i went to las vegas for one day. the whole entire point of the trip was to see garbage play at the house of blues. the show was the night we arrived and we had to catch a plane back home the following afternoon. the morning after the concert he wanted to get up at the buttcrack of dawn and go, i don't know, i don't know what people do that early in vegas...most people are probably getting back to their hotel rooms, but anyway, he wanted to get up early and explore the strip since we had to leave later that day. i was tired. i wanted to sleep. my body would not wake up even though i'd previously agreed that this was a good idea. at this point in my life, i was in college and may or may not have had a part time job. my son was three. i lived a very fastpaced always on the go sort of life and it wasn't until i flew a few states away and had a bed to myself to one night that my body decided to rest. it was short lived, as i did get up eventually because said friend would not stop jumping on my bed, much like my son would have done back home (males just never grow up do they?) anyhow, that was probably not a very entertaining story but i told my husband the other day that i needed a vacation to catch up on sleep and i wasn't kidding. except it would have to be longer than one day to make any difference because i've been good and sleep deprived for five years now and with two small children to care for - this type of exhaustion has a cumulative effect - can i say i'm thoroughly exhausted in a way i didn't know previously existed?

on a somewhat related note, i also mentioned recently that i want to be happier. this is something i've strived for since i realized that being happy wasn't actually a weakness and it actually takes a lot more out of a person (even if it takes relatively little to no effort) to be depressed all the time. and in most ways, most of the time, i feel like i've arrived, so to speak. i am happy. i am content. i can see a "life is good" t-shirt and not mumble under my breath. hell, i can even wear a "life is good" t-shirt if it's not too pink or silly. and life is good. and i count my blessings. and i'm completely ecstatic most of the time about where i'm at and wouldn't change a thing but still, something in me gravitates towards the FML mentality when something doesn't go right and then it's easy to keep crawling down that rabbit hole and then i need that australian actor dude from drop dead fred to hit me over the head with a shovel and ask "why don't you get happy?"

like this..........
(and you only have to watch the first 15 seconds of this video, unless it brings back good memories of having to watch this movie over and over and over and over again with your little sister when you were in high school because the crazy kid loved it entirely too much!)


so, i don't make new year's resolutions and i'm sort of glad to see the trend taking off as i don't think any of my online friends boasted their lists this year, and anyway, it's already february but every year i do tend to think in terms of where i'd like to be in the next year and here i go - sigh - striving to be a bit more happy because i think that entails being a little less high strung and more present and when i go down the familiar rabbit hole, i inevitably lose track of the current moment. i would like a day off but my job as mama means that i have to fully embrace that role, not want to hide from it.