Whine moar, Jay. Whine moar.
Jan. 30th, 2010 12:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
linden_jayI have a case of the pouts.
My boy is away, which was my idea in the first place, and I'm very glad he went and got some time off and had a vacation, because the last year or more has been really rough on him. Yes, it's been rough on me too, with the being pregnant and having twins and having two surgeries, but he's been the one who picked up the slack in absolutely every area of our lives, and done it amazingly, while working full time as a substitute teacher (which he really doesn't like, which is even more exhausting). So I don't resent him being away at all.
But this week has sucked. The Monkey is on an epic sleep strike, and the Frog is on his usual sleep strike, which means both of them have decided that their cribs are their mortal enemies, and being placed in them might cause them to be eaten alive and Mummy, don't you know this and since you clearly don't, I will scream. A lot. All the time. And refuse to sleep, unless I am snuggled up in your arms at all times. Inconvenient if you have one baby. Impossible when you have two.
When we originally set the dates for the boy to go away, I figured hey, no big deal. I am a spoiled brat who has my inlaws and my parents living in town with me, and they're always thrilled to help. Then we found out that my inlaws would be away on vacation while he was gone. Okay, set back. But my parents would still be around, so go--I'll manage.
My mom was all over the helping out and getting to play with grandbabies, so I sent the boy off feeling pretty confident, even knowing that the whole sleep thing was going to be a pain. My mom was going to take the babies on Wednesday evening, so I could have a night to myself, take the Monkey all Thursday night, bring her over on Friday morning, help me do housework for the things I can't do easily since my back is still so shit, and then take the Frog out to my parents place for the weekend, so I'd just have one baby to wrangle. (Believe me, when you have two, having "just" one baby is like being completely unencumbered, living a life of freedom and ease.
Wednesday, instead of letting me have my evening to myself, my mom decided it would be much more fun to come over and visit me and help me with the babies. Okay... so instead of relaxing and getting to play about and do fuck-all, I chatted with my mom, wrangled babies, did all the laundry in the world, and cleaned my house, and didn't eat anything from sometime before noon until past eight o'clock, then battled the crib demons with the babies for most of the evenings. Oh, I did mention that neither of them sleep through the night yet, right? The Frog is always up at least twice, and the Monkey is always up at least once. Guaranteed.
Thursday, my godmother comes over to watch the wee ones for a few hours, which at least means that I can run out and get some groceries, and then I talk to my mom. She's sick. Sick enough to go home from work, which if you don't know my mother, has to be pretty bad. This is the woman who went to work when she was about 3 hours away from having an ectopic pregnancy go kaboom on her. Granted, she didn't know that at the time, but she showed up in the ER telling them she thought she had the flu. Insane person. So, this means that she's not taking the Monkey for the night, and definitely not coming by on Friday to help with housework. Totally get it, but this is just y'know. My life.
So Friday. Day 3 with the kidlets all on my own, and my mom decides that okay, she can take the Frog to her place for the weekend. I ask about five times if she's SURE. Yes, she's sure. Definitely, positively sure, it'll be fine.
My dad calls me at ass o'clock this morning. My mom spent all night throwing up, the Frog keeps being sick (which could just be spitting up, hard to tell considering how much he tosses all over everyone), and he's on his way to bring him back. Back up to two babies again. Oh. And the Monkey slept like crap last night, and fought the crib/sleep demons with hysterics until finally crashing out for good around two. Again, not at all blaming my mother or anything of the kind, just having a round of This is Jay's Life, with sigh chorus. When my dad figures out how to make pablum and gets up for night feeds and actually changes diapers? You KNOW my mother has to be truly ill.
The boy gets home at 7pm. I am not at all counting the hours. Or deciding that once he hits home and has time to take his shoes off? They are his children until he goes back to work. Not mine, HIS. Not at all. Definitely not.
Can I have a round of Fuck My Life, please?
My boy is away, which was my idea in the first place, and I'm very glad he went and got some time off and had a vacation, because the last year or more has been really rough on him. Yes, it's been rough on me too, with the being pregnant and having twins and having two surgeries, but he's been the one who picked up the slack in absolutely every area of our lives, and done it amazingly, while working full time as a substitute teacher (which he really doesn't like, which is even more exhausting). So I don't resent him being away at all.
But this week has sucked. The Monkey is on an epic sleep strike, and the Frog is on his usual sleep strike, which means both of them have decided that their cribs are their mortal enemies, and being placed in them might cause them to be eaten alive and Mummy, don't you know this and since you clearly don't, I will scream. A lot. All the time. And refuse to sleep, unless I am snuggled up in your arms at all times. Inconvenient if you have one baby. Impossible when you have two.
When we originally set the dates for the boy to go away, I figured hey, no big deal. I am a spoiled brat who has my inlaws and my parents living in town with me, and they're always thrilled to help. Then we found out that my inlaws would be away on vacation while he was gone. Okay, set back. But my parents would still be around, so go--I'll manage.
My mom was all over the helping out and getting to play with grandbabies, so I sent the boy off feeling pretty confident, even knowing that the whole sleep thing was going to be a pain. My mom was going to take the babies on Wednesday evening, so I could have a night to myself, take the Monkey all Thursday night, bring her over on Friday morning, help me do housework for the things I can't do easily since my back is still so shit, and then take the Frog out to my parents place for the weekend, so I'd just have one baby to wrangle. (Believe me, when you have two, having "just" one baby is like being completely unencumbered, living a life of freedom and ease.
Wednesday, instead of letting me have my evening to myself, my mom decided it would be much more fun to come over and visit me and help me with the babies. Okay... so instead of relaxing and getting to play about and do fuck-all, I chatted with my mom, wrangled babies, did all the laundry in the world, and cleaned my house, and didn't eat anything from sometime before noon until past eight o'clock, then battled the crib demons with the babies for most of the evenings. Oh, I did mention that neither of them sleep through the night yet, right? The Frog is always up at least twice, and the Monkey is always up at least once. Guaranteed.
Thursday, my godmother comes over to watch the wee ones for a few hours, which at least means that I can run out and get some groceries, and then I talk to my mom. She's sick. Sick enough to go home from work, which if you don't know my mother, has to be pretty bad. This is the woman who went to work when she was about 3 hours away from having an ectopic pregnancy go kaboom on her. Granted, she didn't know that at the time, but she showed up in the ER telling them she thought she had the flu. Insane person. So, this means that she's not taking the Monkey for the night, and definitely not coming by on Friday to help with housework. Totally get it, but this is just y'know. My life.
So Friday. Day 3 with the kidlets all on my own, and my mom decides that okay, she can take the Frog to her place for the weekend. I ask about five times if she's SURE. Yes, she's sure. Definitely, positively sure, it'll be fine.
My dad calls me at ass o'clock this morning. My mom spent all night throwing up, the Frog keeps being sick (which could just be spitting up, hard to tell considering how much he tosses all over everyone), and he's on his way to bring him back. Back up to two babies again. Oh. And the Monkey slept like crap last night, and fought the crib/sleep demons with hysterics until finally crashing out for good around two. Again, not at all blaming my mother or anything of the kind, just having a round of This is Jay's Life, with sigh chorus. When my dad figures out how to make pablum and gets up for night feeds and actually changes diapers? You KNOW my mother has to be truly ill.
The boy gets home at 7pm. I am not at all counting the hours. Or deciding that once he hits home and has time to take his shoes off? They are his children until he goes back to work. Not mine, HIS. Not at all. Definitely not.
Can I have a round of Fuck My Life, please?
