I’ve been doing the holiday hustle lately.
Its a lot like Dancing with the Stars. Except no fancy outfits. No televised appearances. No trainer teaching me the steps. Instead, it was all me, all the time, doing the hustle, fox trot and two step to the sounds of Christmas music, long lines and cash registers ringing.
I love the holidays. It is by far my favorite time of year. I love the baking, the wrapping, the holiday music, the lights, the trees, the decorations and the overall magic of the season. Yes, the magic. I hope you see and feel it too.
I don’t love the holiday hustle though. I don’t love the excessive consumption associated with the holidays, whether it is food, alcohol or presents. This time of year signifies overindulgence. In fact, it encourages overindulgence. I spent a little too much time overindulging and feeling stressed by the hustle and “things” and not enough time enjoying the magic.
I did manage to sneak some of the magic in though but next year I hope for more magic….less hustle.
Enjoy the magic. Enjoy the hustle. Enjoy the new year.
It’s time for sleep. Seriously. Your shenanigans are bordering on the baby version of the beibs and bynes right now. I get that they are all over the news. In fact, bynes made the news this morning for wearing her wig and sunglasses while babbling to herself and chowing down in public. Beibs, meanwhile, was doing something with a monkey recently and then something with a former president. Maybe they look cool to your babyself. With the monkeys and wigs…I get it. But really if there was a baby tabloid, you would be the cover every week. I’m here to tell you as your mother that you’re headed down the wrong path. The milkbar is closed. Go to sleep little baby. You’ll feel better after a nap. I promise.
Who coined that phrase? Obviously, they know diddlysquat about babies. Or at least my baby. We’ve gone weeks without sleep in my house. People, I’m talking weeks. Do you hear me? Am I making myself clear?
It’s true. It’s all true. There have been many a sleepless night in my house for the past many, many, many weeks. I don’t actually know how many weeks anymore. My ability to complete basic math computations has failed me. Trust me though….it has been weeks. You probably got that part already though, right?
So, why all the sleepless nights? It has something to do with a baby. I mean you don’t actually think I’m the one waking up in the middle of the night crying, pooping my pants or wanting to nurse did you? Nope. Not me this time. It’s my babypants. High maintenance middle of the night baby antics happening here.
What you probably didn’t know though is that not only does my babypants have all types of middle of the night shenanigans but now he has them during the day too. What kind of shenanigans you ask? The no napping anymore, at all, never ever kind. It’s like final destination except at my house there aren’t 5 sequels lined up. Just one….no sleep.
So back to the question at hand, who coined the term sleeping like a baby? What does that mean? In my house it means not sleeping. Sleeping like a husband. Sleeping like a dog. Sleeping like a cat. I would like to try one of those, please.
Yep. This is my kid. I found him on a mission in baby jail. Maybe looking for a way out. Looking for a spoon to dig his way to China. Searching for the missing teeth (more on that later). Or perhaps he just wanted some light reading from the stack of books by the baby jail. I’m not sure what the agenda was. What I am sure of though is now I have to lower the mattress. Ya know..for safety reasons and all. I’ll be sad to see the pretty crib skirt leave tonight but responsible parents ditch the cribskirt to keep the kid alive. At least that is what I read on google.
Ta Ta crib skirt. Hello lowered, impossible to put my kid to sleep in, mattress. Sweet dreams.