Ramblings from a nap-skipper.

 

 

I’m trying to not nap today.

You see, I woke up this morning and it seems that my baby is, suddenly, 18.5 months old.

Although I have been there for every day of it, I honestly do not know how this happened.  I would be less shocked if he was 18 DAYS old, actually.

Because I’m pretty sure I am still postpartum?  And everyone should just applaude me for making it out of the house?  And shouldn’t someone still be bringing me meals??

 

Also, frankly, I deserve a nap!  I have done so many things today! So, so many things, I won’t go into them all here, but lets just say that if you were sitting on my couch right now and I told you all the things I have done so far today you would gasp!  And exclaim, “But friend!  You did too much!”

And I would stifle a sob, motion to my surroundings and say, “I know!  But apparently I didn’t DO ENOUGH!  Because the house looks like I haven’t gotten off the couch all day!  And the children are acting as if they haven’t been parented…ever.  I would compare them to feral children, except I’m pretty sure that wild dogs have a discipline system of some kind?”

Then I would lay my head on your shoulder, and ask you hopefully if you brought cookies?  And then you would say, “I thought you were on a diet?” and I would sob again and you would rub my back gently.

After my self-pity-rainshower died down, you would steer me to my bed and I would protest “No nap today!  He’s 18 months old!” and you would say, “Shush!  He’s practically a newborn!”

And you would tuck me into my bed, and pull the covers up to my chin, and as you walked out and closed the door I would whisper, “That’s why she’s my best friend.”