I’ve begun 2020 in a fashion in which I ended 2019 – sleep deprived and desperate for a shot of whiskey and a long nap on the beach. My child is now 12 weeks old. Google, and any old lady who’s path I accidentally cross, would tell me my child should be sleeping through the night by now. I’d love to remind the stranger old ladies they used alcohol back in the day to help with that and it is now seriously frowned upon to do so (though, I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t crossed my mind). Facebook suggests ‘sleep training’ programmes on a regular basis. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against sleep training. Actually might give it a go. But I’m also so fucking tired I might not. Because training anything requires energy, and I don’t have any of that. My child sleeps, roughly 3-5 hours at a time in the evening/night and as of this week, not at all during the day.
The whole night sleep thing is actually great, I said that to someone the other day who gave me a sideways look. Yes, 5-6 hours of sleep a night is ‘not a bad night’ and 7 hours on average I’m quite proud of. Turns out all my years of late night, last minute assignment completion, late night parties, and just in general not sleeping during my younger years prepared me well for my zombie like state. I can function like a normal human 80 per cent of the time. Heck, I even started making baby food and went for a run today.
#nailedit
This week the entire household has decided they can’t get enough of me. The dog follows me around like a bad smell, the cat had a meltdown because I locked it out of the room, and the child thinks I’ve abandoned him if he’s left to sleep alone for more than 10 minutes. I have seriously considered going all jungle book and leaving the animals to raise my child.
Speaking of animals, the dog has decided all wooden baby toys are hers and they are to be destroyed. She’s still alive, and it turns out the more tired I am the less energy I have to waste being angry. So she just got to enjoy those baby toys. The baby wasn’t really enjoying them so I guess at least someone was making the most it.
I have been riding my horse. And, I’m excited to share I have only fallen off one time, and I can now jump a series of jumps without totally embarrassing myself. My horse has also forgiven me for my terrible riding skills and has decided to assist with keeping me on top of her, for which I am thankful for.
We are hopefully getting our Hyundai back in a week or so. We took it in for a service in November… and because I have some of the most strange bad luck, we were one of only a few in every 100 THOUSAND who ended up with a faulty oil filter, resulting in a very broken car. So, I learnt how difficult it is to put a carseat in a sedan. Hard, really bloody hard I tell you. There have been many a swear word uttered as a result of that stupid fucking seat belt jamming and my head hitting the door frame. I have never been so damn desperate for my SUV.
I’d like to think I’m acing parenting. But the truth of the matter is I’m not. No one ever really wins at parenting, other than the small squawking being that now owns your soul. The washing never ends. It was like that pre child, it just didn’t bother me as much. There never seems to be enough time to enjoy making food, and I really like to enjoy food. And exercising is exciting, though a slap in the face when you realise just because your body WANTS to sleep well after a big work out, does not mean that it will be allowed to.
Oh, and nappies. All those reusable diaper ads that said ‘don’t worry, you don’t have to touch poo’… like, yes you do. Regardless of the nappy you use – disposable or reusable, you’ll touch poo. Just accept that fact and learn to be ok with it. I remind myself it’s smaller than a horse shit and stinks less than the dog shit, so really, is it that bad? No. No it’s not.
So, things I’m managing to do successfully; exercise everyday, make nutritious food most of the time, exercise the dog and the horse, sing to my child (fairly certain he will be traumatised from it), and remain awake.
Unsuccessful things; well pretty much everything else.
But hey, I’m alive, child is smiling and starting to giggle, and the animals are fed. The rubbish may be taking over my house, and my new vacuum cleaner is getting more use than it signed up for, but I’m ok. We are all ok. We have Google and opinionated strangers to help us through the mind field that is parenting after all.
Til’ next time.
The irony kid 