Wednesday, September 1, 2010

The Bundle of Joy is not Always Joyous

Don't get me wrong.  I'm crazy about my daughter.  In fact, I'm more obsessed with her than the Duggars are with expanding their brood (apparently shooting for baby #20 according to Us Weekly). It's just that there are days where there's nothing else I'd rather do but shove her back in my uterus.

Like today.  The Bundle simply refuses to take a nap, which basically means that my time stalking people on Facebook will be cut in half. Yet again. I partly blame this on allowing her to sleep through the night which has been the case since she was born.  I'm not gloating.  I know you'd love for your little one to sleep through the night too, but when you're a nocturnal insomniac like I am, you'd also pray for the day they'd confuse their days with nights. She's a GREAT night sleeper, absolutely fantastic.  I'm insanely happy that someone in this house gets their fair share of 12 hours of sleep.  However, when the clock strikes 7am, I wake up to a baby who's fully recharged and ready to train for the national decathlon. 

This is exactly why those greedy assholes jack up the prices of infant toys.  This, fellow mothers, explains why it's absurd to fork over $80 for contraptions named Jumperoo and Gymini, but we do it anyway, because for the bargain price of $80, you get a babysitter you don't need to pay an hourly rate for.  And you can sleep well knowing that your prized booze collection remains untouched.

Here's the thing though.  As much as I'd love to do cutesy baby activities with her, I'm not cut out for that.  There are just some people born to organize neighborhood zoo trips and have a ball coloring white mugs at Color Me Mine.  If you're someone I've just described, I think it's great you have THAT much time in your hands, really I do, but I think we can never be friends.  I'm just not the type, so I'm sorry that I don't share your passion for making baby clothes out of hemp (pun intended) and I have reservations about sending my daughter to baby yoga classes .  That said, I do know other uses for hemp, and I know a handful of people who'd love to get their hands on some.  So call me.

Anyway, here I am running on 3 hours of sleep and I'm holding on to the very last bit of my adrenaline as her bedtime nears. What a day. Come noontime, I've ran out of contraptions to keep her busy and I was getting desperate. One thing that kinda sucks when it comes to Yuna is that she demands to be entertained.  You can so much as pick your nose in front of her and she'll be entertained, as long as you do it in a sing-song baby voice. You will also need to sing along when you hear Party in my Tummy while she watches Yo Gabba Gabba, unless you want her tv viewing pleasure to be cut short due to your lack of participation and you're stuck thinking of what to do next. So try doing that everyday and you'll feel so lightheaded, you're one puff away from achieving nirvana. 

Need. To. Wear. Her. Out. I seriously need to be on crack to keep up with this baby.  

As a final attempt to tire her out before I give her a bath, this is all I could come up with:

I reduced my entertaining prowess to pretending I'm a fart machine.  How sad is that? Did it work?  Hell no.  If it did, I wouldn't be writing now.  I'd be racing her to her crib and calling dibs on the left side.

And as if today wasn't bad enough, this drama queen just learned that raising her arms in protest equals: she will get picked up. So raise her arms, she did. Again and again and again.

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