I thought we were past this. I had forgotten about the horror that follows sleepless nights. I feel like shit. I caught a glimpse of myself in a window in town yesterday and that thing that looked like someone ate something ugly and then regurgitated it -was me.

My 2-year old son has herpes simplex. His first round with cold sores. On his little lips, on his gums, tongue, chin and cheek. The only time I ever saw anything like it was in high school and she was a slut who had it coming. My poor baby certainly did not. He can’t eat anything harder than a ripe banana or drink anything stronger than water. Rice pudding went OK. Yogurt was too acid-y. 3 days of fever and 5 pills a day.

So for the past week or so we’ve been playing that funny game called: “Torture!”.

It goes like this:

8 pm: Sleepy-time. After bath, carefully trying to clean his teeth with cotton balls resulting in tears and bleeding from the gums (eww), clean jammies, a song and two stories: Nitenite. Pacifier in hand. Drink of water given. Nitenite.

8:10 pm: Mooom! Ok, I’ll open the door a bit wider.

8:20 He’s sleeping.

8:20 – 9: Mommy checking emails after giving up on stupefying (STUPID-FYING!)  TV.

9: Drink of water for the crying boy.

10: More water. Pacifier. Covers over him once more. Pad-pad.

11: More water. Tiny sip. We both know it is just an excuse he comes up with to prove that I am his bitch! Mommy goes to bed. Not sleep. Hahaha. Fucker.

Midnight: Moooooom! He is crying. Water given. “Shut up now” quietly said through quenched teeth.

1 am: More crying. Wants to sleep in mommy’s bed. No way, said a little too loudly. All week he slept in my bed. It ain’t fun! he must learn to sleep in his own bed. We will both sleep better that way. I AM NOT COMING IN HERE NO MORE. GO TO SLEEP.

2 am: I KNOW that he is not thirsty. He has a clean diaper and all is well. He is just over-tired and sleeps lightly and wants me everytime he surfases. I have to teach him to go back to sleep and not to call me. He is FINE. It all about who has the power.

2:30 am: After 30 minutes of crying, I can’t take it no more and prove that I am indeed his bitch: And go in there. Pick him up, snot and tears everywhere. Clean him up, sit with him for 10 minutes, lullabying. I sound like I smoked a pack of cigs and drank the entire isle of Scotland worth of whiskey. Sadly, I did neither. I wish.

2:35: Boy sleeping. Happily knowing that he won the power struggle, that he is my little project and I will do anything for him and he is in total control over everything, he is the boss of me and I am his slave. (Does this mean that he will grow up to be an asshole because his mother didn’t just tell him to shut the fuck up and go to sleep instead of coming to reassure him that I am still here everytime he wakes up after dozing off? He was IN PAIN. What was I supposed to do?? Yeah, tell that to the ex-wives and 5 kids with 4 women all of whom he is cheating for alimony because his mother always took care of everything. Oh no…)

3 am: Other child enters the scene. Never found out what his problem was, just scooted over and told him that he could sleep next to me with his bony little knees strategically placed in my back and his head strealing my pillow. Don’t judge me (like I do myself): At this point I would have given him my visa card, the pin-code and the car keys – anything for some QUIET!!

4:45 am: Cat meowing and scraping (!!!) on the door. (I kid you not. This really happened!) Get up and walk down the stairs to let him out. Whisper: “I hate you all”  to the quiet house that is obviously haunted by assholes.

7:30 am: wake up way too late. Hubby down with fever, shaking and wet with sweat. He was sick all night. Otherwise the program would have looked different!

.. and the day went on from there. You get the picture, I’m sure.

And I can blog about in a kind-of-funny- way, but indeed, ‘tis no fun at all. Not sleeping makes me feel like there is no hope left in the world. No hope in my life. What is to become of  me? One night is tough enough but it’s been going on for a week. I haven’t had a decent nights sleep in a week, fuckit.

And how cleaver he is, that youn’un. Just at the age where IF we were to give one last shot – although we said we wouldn’t – at a girl, now would be the time. Before this, who could remember what it was like not sleeping? (Which again proves my point that Mother Nature is a bitch, because it was only about a year and a half ago I was ready to kill myself just to get some rest – and then one forgets and have another snotling and there you go…)

I bet it would look really funny if I was filmed last night and the pace was picked up and funny piano-music played. Me, going back and forth, my chubby little legs going like drumsticks. THAT would have been fun.

ps. All those words about consistency and consequence in child-rearing I once uttered? Shut up. 

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2 Responses to I Thought We Were Past This…

  1. Wabbit says:

    Afraid to speak, lest the next blog should contain:
    3:30 AM The computer dings loud enough to wake the dead with a post from Wabbit who couldn’t be bothered to post at a more civil hour. Sound the death knell!
    Now here’s a brave bunny…I posted anyway! It’s a token hug across the miles to remind Cinda that it doesn’t last forever (but remember, it DOES start all over again with another child!).

  2. Cindafuckingrella says:

    Hey Bunnygirl,
    No, no ding and I got 5 straight hours last night!! He is feeling MUCh better and hence, so am I.
    Thanks for the token hug and the reminder. So, no we won’t be adding another Jolie-Pitt to our brood.

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