I compiled this list during a time when the baby was very new and still waking to eat during the night (the situation has since improved. Now he only wakes me up for really important things, like a crease in his blanket or he heard someone pass wind in Kapuskasing.) I realized I had to write these thoughts down because it could either become an instructional window into the mind of a sleep-deprived mom, or be entered as evidence when I inevitably go insane.
I could have been a Solid Gold Dancer.
- I guess it’s sort of like shiatsu massage when he repeatedly kicks me in the back.
- Did I fail parenting today?
- I know you’re doing this whole “I’m so cute” thing during the day so that I’ll totally forgive you for keeping me up all night.
- I had no idea that floorboards were so bloody loud. Honestly it sounds like Leatherface and Sammy Davis Jr. are having a dance-off. Wait, that would be an awesome Christmas special. I’d watch that.
- I think I forgot to blink today.
- Maybe I’m nuts, but I’m sure that Rice Krispies were larger when I was a kid.
Also, I swear they’re saying “snap, crackle, kill.”
- You know what’s creepy? My neighbours thumping up and down the stairs at all hours. Know what’s creepier? What if there’s no one living there??
- I’m sucking the snot out of your nose and YOU’RE the one spitting up?
- When using the snot sucker on your baby, always make sure you’re sucking on the right end.
- Wait a minute…King Triton could have turned his daughter into a human at any time but he made her go to the Sea Witch? That is some cold s**t.
- We need dimmers on every light in the house.
- Lord, I hope that little girl from The Ring doesn’t come out of my TV right now.
I’d lose my damn mind.
Alexis Nicols is a marketing specialist, actor and freelance writer. She lives in urban Toronto with her husband and two sons, but is definitely suburban at heart. She regularly dodges the slings and arrows of parenting boys, considers herself a connoisseur of stretchy pants and hopes that the light at the end of the tunnel isn’t a train.
For more musings from a mom who wonders when everything below the neck went National Geographic, visit her blog: stopstopcomehere.ca