2am, 3am.. heaven forbid you see 4am because if 5am hits you might as well call it a night and start the day without getting any shut eye or one tiny little snore in- that you’ll deny until you’re dead so it can no longer be proven. These are the hours you forget exist until you’re staring them in the face. The hours not made for the faint of heart. The hours you marvel over as the younger generation dances through without puffy eye bags and with an energy you haven’t seen since the kids came.
I used to stomp through the house and showcase my frustration like an airplane landing strip.
She mad and you couldn’t miss it.
An angry mom? Yes, that was me. I was sleep deprived. I wasn’t eating. I was emotionally drained and physically exhausted and mentally… well honestly, I think I had checked out completely mentally. “𝘕𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦.” I just couldn’t handle any more and having two children 14 months apart with sleeping disorders- it was beginning to look like a documentary of one of those paranormal activity movies.
Or some messed-up, twisted version of 𝙼𝚊𝚖𝚊’𝚜 𝙶𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚍, and nope, not in the way you’re thinking. 𝙿𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜: My brown hair full of body on point with bed head disarray, (𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 1.26373268 𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜- 𝚜𝚘 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚍𝚍𝚢-𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐) looking all mom-appealing in my husband’s T-shirt and his pajamas bottoms (𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚌 𝚋𝚊𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕) ((𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗇𝗈, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝖼 𝖻𝖺𝗀 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗒𝖼𝗅𝖾)) wielding a green spatula I grabbed for dramatic effect as I growl some idle threats that I (and they) know I have zero intention on following through with. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚝. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗.
Mom’s gone wild.
I knew in my heart this was all wrong. I knew they couldn’t help it and needed my help and my support- not my angry words and feed-up attitude. We weren’t solving anything. I had a heart issue and needed a change, I needed to 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬 and see things in a new way.
But I was exhausted and wasn’t sure how to change anything.
Truthfully, I still am exhausted.
𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. My kids need me when I am exhausted. They need me when I’m hungry. They need me when I’m sick. They need me when I am depressed and when I’m sad and when I’m hurting- as well, as when I’m happy, and rested and living my best life.
𝗞𝗶𝗱𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗰𝗶𝗿𝗰𝘂𝗺𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲, 𝘀𝗶𝘁𝘂𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗿 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁- but you can let it affect your parenting and your relationship with your kids in a positive or negative way. Your responses and actions are vital and crucial.
So here I am, writing at 2:30am. This tiny little hour that I could so easily and eagerly breeze through were I sleeping- but instead I’m snuggled up to one of the best things about me, my youngest son- because there’s “creepy eyes only kids can see” in his closet and something 𝔦𝔫𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔟𝔩𝔢 hiding under his bed and I can trust him because he knows because he heard “a noise.”
“𝙾𝚔 𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚞𝚝𝚜 𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚍, 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘..”
But my son, who honestly uses the word “𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙬” as a “𝗯𝗮𝗱 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱,” all he gets tonight is a calm Mama offering snuggles and reassurance and prayers for protection and peace of mind because these tiny hours…𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔.
So, don’t be a stew, and learn from this recovering mom-gone-wild: embrace your kids with loving arms and soft words no matter the hour. 🖤