Yiftah had fallen asleep and the first thing I did was eat lunch, and then I was going to post here about him being asleep and what should I do first, but he woke up, so bugger that.
I know that this is just a phase, but the sleepless nights and 16-hour workdays of the SAHM are really starting to get to me. To make matters even more interesting, my breast pump lost a part, so until I get that fixed, DH can’t help me with the nocturnal feedings. The result is that I wake up every morning with a new part of my head feeling like somebody repeatedly clubbed it with a baseball bat.
I often ask myself who thought it would be a good idea to let me raise children. I might have mentioned this before, but it really is a troubling question. I think it would make much more sense, if I were, say, the babysitter. I mean, they are fantastic kids and I must have some part in that, but I would hardly call a mother who finds herself muttering “STFU” through clenched teeth at 4 a.m. the epitome of stellar parenting.
Yiftah must know what’s going through my head now because he’s just put on his most adorable “come and take a bite out my cute little tuchus” smile, and is proceeding to crawl across the room while letting out his gleeful battle call “A-dah-dah-dah!!!”.
Oy, the guilt.
Gotta go make a phone call. That o-ring for my pump isn’t going to order itself.