Sunny Days in DC

Jack of All Trades, Master of 3-ish.

And then I screamed “HUZZAH!” and jumped off a cliff.

on December 31, 2012

Babies are wonderful, joyous, tiny little assholes. And if you ever say that in public, people are like, “Oh, you’re a TERRIBLE mother! How can you say that?! Babies are our reason for BEING!” and then they walk away, and you have to take the tiny, screaming, poop-covered jerk to a bathroom where you wrestle with them to strip them naked, clean them, change them, and hope they don’t reward you by peeing on your clothes, or projectile pooping across the room. Cuz guess what? That’s totally a thing.

The nice part is, though, sometimes you get another parent in the room, and you’re like, “OMFG MY BABY IS BEING A TINY DONKEY DICK!” and they’re all, “I KNOW! I’m thinking of selling mine to passing Gypsies. Your thoughts?” And you bond over visions of running away to some warm, tropical island, and letting your child run naked across a beach, because that’s natural. And nature doesn’t wear diapers. Or poop itself.

No, I DON’T care if that’s wrong. Leave me to my beautiful world…

Anyway, that’s what I did this weekend… not poop myself. The Husband’s family was in from New York, and of his three female cousins, one has a baby Max’s age, one is pregnant, and one just got married. It was all very “Circle of Life.”

The One With The Baby, her husband, and I sat around and discussed the fact that I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in 9 months. If you’re not sure what that feels like, try backing up about ten feet, then run repeatedly into a parked car for about 15 minutes while listening to the dulcet tones of cats in heat.

It’s like that.

Oh, and everyone says, “Wow. You look like shit.”

Thank you. I’m raising a tiny human who burst forth from my womb, but I DID forget my mascara today, so you should TOTALLY FEEL FREE TO JUMP UP MY BUTT ABOUT THAT.

Anyway, She Who Has El Bebe and I were discussing sleep.

“We’re going to Ferberize him.” she said.

me: “That’s… kinky?”

Her: “It’s like a progressive Cry it Out thing. How old is Max? Six months? He should be sleeping for twelve hours straight…”

At this point, I lost all control of my brain and may have blacked out. I knew she kept talking, but a part of me went into shock at the thought of twelve hours straight. Of sleep. That I wasn’t getting…

…because every two hours, Max likes to wake me up.

“Are you… don’t… DON’T LIE TO ME!!! TWELVE HOURS?!?!” I may have gotten a little scary at this point, and I may or may not have run across the room, and pinned her to the wall like some kind of scene out Kill Bill.

Here’s the kicker though. At six months, babies learn that they can manipulate you with their cries. Why? I have a theory that at some point, all babies get together and agree that FUCK SLEEP. FUCK EVERY THING ABOUT SLEEP. AND FUCK YOU FOR WANTING SLEEP. So they’re going to fight you. And the only thing you can do is ignore them.

But not too much, because then that’s neglect (so Law & Order tells me). And not too little, because then you’re a “helicopter” parent, which sounds awesome because think of all the time and money you’d save on your commute if you were part helicopter.


*And think of how much time you could spend popping all the bubbles on this kid! I mean, jesus, you could just punch him for FUN! Not that I would… cause that’s… bad?*

So, we’re Crying it Out. Kinda. I’m sitting here typing while I hear Max complain upstairs. If he really starts losing it, I’ll go up and snuggle him, and hate myself for it in the morning. But for now, I need to get on this “sleep” thing I hear so much about.

Because right now, I’m so tired, that I my kidneys feel like I have tiny cats dancing in them, and I need to commit to some kind of plan of action to get a good night’s rest. So, huzzah! Here we go merrily jumping off the cliff of SLEEP TRAINING!

6 responses to “And then I screamed “HUZZAH!” and jumped off a cliff.

  1. Teeny Bikini says:

    I know I’ve already been here. But this is sooooooo funny. Love this! I am so sorry about the sleep thing though. That’s just torture. Who knew you could train babies?!

    “We’re going to Ferberize him.” she said.

    me: “That’s… kinky?”

    😆 That’s perfect!

    • H. Stern says:

      I want you to know that every time you leave a comment, I pee myself a little. Partially, possibly, because of an undiagnosed medical condition, but MOSTLY (and I’m pretty sure about this) because you’re HILARIOUS and the idea of you liking something that I write gives me a happy.

  2. blowingoffsteamandmore says:

    HAHAHAHA! Been there 2x. That awkward moment when you tell someone you want to punch your kid in the face and they gape at you in horror as if you actually did it right in front of them. Sigh. Find that mom friend who knows (or at least hopes) you won’t really DO it and duct tape yourselves together. It will save your life and prevent any unnecessary duct taping of the child.

    • H. Stern says:

      Well, my son is only 7 months old, so I figure I have another 17.5 years to find other moms who lovingly put their children to bed at night, and then do a couple of body shots.

      I’m fascinated by people like the Duggars; I’m pretty sure that if I had that many kids, I would just walk around randomly slapping people. Or I’d run away to Vegas to be a show girl. 50/50.

  3. ekgo says:

    Not to be an asshole (Haha, I lied! I’m totally saying this JUST to be an asshole!) – you know what I do at 10:00 pm, every night? Whatever the hell I please.
    Because, dude, I had a younger brother and two younger sisters and I had to help with them all, especially the youngest because I was 7 when she was born and perfectly capable of taking care of a baby. And you know what I did for cash in high school? That’s right. I babysat. I was one of 3 preferred babysitters in our town so I was always taking care of children. And then in college? I had 3 jobs. One was p/t child care taker, meaning I got to their house in the morning before the parents left, I took care of the kids and cleaned the house and sometimes prepped the dinner, and then when the parents got home, I’d go to one of my other jobs.
    And so my brain told my uterus, “If you EVER think about making one of these, so help me, I will make sure you NEVER have a job in this town again. Meaning, I will kill you because I am the brain and I can do that” and my uterus was all, “Oh, hell NO! Grow something that’s going to stretch me into a shape I am not meant to be in and then expel it along with all the other gross things that sit in there, too? I don’t think so” and my boobs were all, “Do I get a say?” and the brain and uterus said, “Do you want a say? I mean, you don’t really have THAT much to do with it” so they piped up with, “We don’t want the life and pertness sucked out of us. Please don’t make that happen.” Also, I watched all these new moms turn into Podlings from “The Dark Crystal” that were having their essssenssse sucked out by the Skeksis and I was all, “Ummmm. No”
    Of course, I also don’t get any sleep because I have an asshole husband who snores and jerkface animals who are cruel to me, but I can always just kill them. You’re not supposed to kill kids, but I’m pretty sure husbands are ok.
    At the same time, you’re going to always have a source for great stories. And also, you are helping to perpetuate good traits in the human race (i.e. humor) and I’ve got no legacy so it probably all evens out in the end. I get the good stuff now, you get the good stuff for the next umpteen zillion years!

People who leave comments on blogs have been statistically shown to live longer, happier lives.

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