I posted this picture earlier today on instagram and everyone said, oh my gosh that is so sweet. And it is, obviously, mind-meltingly wonderful.
This is the real story of why they were both in our bed this morning.
Alright, listen. I’m going to share something horrifying. In fact, when I told this story to my sisters this morning, I swore they were the only people who would ever hear it. But perhaps there is someone out there who needs to know that they are not, in fact, the worst person ever at their job. Because I’m 3 weeks into this new job as a mom of two babies, and let me tell you:
I am the worst. Not you. Me. So rest easy.
Let’s start by recognizing the fact that I am tired. If you don’t have a newborn at home, or live with small children, I’m not sure how to describe the particular strain of exhaustion that I am currently operating under. I could tell you that my left eye has a permanent twitch, like tiny seizures from my eyelid trying to close on its own volition. I could tell you that I had a wicked case of mastitis this weekend, during which I may have actually died for a few hours on Sunday afternoon. I can’t be sure because I don’t recall any scenes from my short journey towards death, like golden streets or the face of God or anything. Which is really too bad, because that could have been a very lucrative book deal. I would have called it, “The Horney Side Of Heaven.” I would have made millions.
Anyways, I’m tired. I guess I didn’t realize how tired I actually am, until last night. I woke up around 4:00 a.m. to a squirming baby who wanted fed. I set him on the bed and got ready to change his diaper before he nursed. Sam got up to use the bathroom, and after he flipped on the light, I reached down for the stack of diapers beside my bed. I wasn’t quite lucid at this point, and did not register the fact that Clara was asleep on the floor. Not quite on the floor, though, because the top half of her body lay across the baby’s bouncy chair. Her hands were clasped sweetly under her cheek and her knees were tucked under the chair, like she was praying. I gasped out a what in the heck? Clara sleeps in her crib, in her nursery, and I had no idea how she got into our room. She can’t climb out of her crib; she can barely climb off our kitchen chairs. I turned to my husband, who was washing his hands in the bathroom.
“Sam. Did you bring her in here?”
He looked to where I was gesturing, at our toddler folded in half on the floor beside our bed.
“What in the world…No. I didn’t bring her in, you must have. Why did you put her in the bunny chair?”
I shook my head.
“I didn’t…I mean, I don’t remember bringing her in here. Like, at all.”
I remembered her crying for me at some point, because she is getting her molars and sometimes wakes up in pain. I remembered rocking her in the nursery. And that was it. That’s where my memory stopped. How did she get in our room? Why was she asleep in the baby’s bouncy chair? How long had she been there? Sam stepped out of the bathroom and scooped her up off the floor, staring at me sort of accusingly.
“You have no idea how this happened?”
I turned back to the baby to finish changing his diaper/to avoid Sam’s incredulous gaze. He settled Clara onto his side of the bed, her head sharing his pillow, I can only assume out of guilt and as a small protective measure against my sleepwalking parenting decisions. He went out to get a drink or something while I started nursing, and then came back a moment later.
“Why is there a dresser drawer on the couch?”
I bit my lip.
“Are you serious? There’s a drawer on the couch?”
Yes. There was. Not the contents of a drawer, mind you. No. A drawer full of swaddle blankets and tiny hats, pulled off its track and set down on the couch. This means two things:
1. At some point in the middle of the night, I either left my daughter somewhere in my house to find her way to our bedroom floor, or I thought she was the newborn and set her down in his bouncy chair to sleep.
2. I pulled an entire drawer out of the nursery dresser and carried it to the living room to leave on the couch.
Somewhere, someday, I hope someone reads this post and then shuts their laptop with a satisfied sigh, knowing deep in their heart that while they might be bad at life, I am worse.
Also, please don’t call child protective services. I will take a nap today, honest.
4 thoughts on “i could parent in my sleep.”
Oh. my. goodness. I laughed so hard while reading this, not because you're so bad but because I remember exactly what this was like. Yours is just funnier 🙂 It gets easier with 2, I promise!
Laughed to the point of tears. Love you jess
Laughing hysterically. Not at your pain, of course. Conan is on. OK, so I'm laughing at you. My only comparable is when I woke up to the cat licking my shirt where I had apparently leaked or spilled…or something. Possibly broke all of her bones when I heaved her across the room into the wall. You are an incredible mother. Maybe a tired, crazy mother, but wonderful. 😉
Sadly, I think I can “one up” you
Ok so one fine night at 3 am I was awoken to Rylee screaming, I am especially exhausted this week so instead of trying to rock her, I just make her a bottle and bring her to bed with me. Shortly after she entered our room the blood curdling screams woke up her daddy. Johnny knows how sleep deprived I have been and offers to help. I tell him that the bottle is on the nightstand and that he can give it to her so I can try to go back to sleep. He didn't want to reach over us in bed so he asked me to hand him the bottle. Little did I know, I had placed the bottle right next to an open bottle of water and YEP, I handed him that instead. You can put together what happened next. And no I couldn't have trusted Johnny to know the difference between a bottle of water and a pink baby bottle of milk either because at that time of night cause he is pretty much worthless (despite his sweet will to help) I have seen him run into doors, walls, just weird stuff. Anyways to finish the story he takes the bottle of water turns it upside down to feed Rylee and SPLASH dumps all of the water directly over Rylee's head and face! We thought we had heard her as mad as she could get before…and we were wrong! Plus the bed was soaked. Then we start blaming each other. Now we laugh but at the time I felt like the worst mom ever!!!!
Love reading your blogs 🙂 glad to be following you now. I'm Rochelle, John Walkers girlfriend. I met you at Shara's wedding a while back. Debbie and Sandy are good friends of Johns parents Russell and Roseanne. Debbie and Sandy were actually just here visiting before they flew out for Micah's wedding. Everytime I am in their company I'm left thinking, wow what good people those two are, I just love the Horneys <3 take care and many blessings :)