Yeah, yeah, yeah. Oh wait, I just slipped into 80's music recitation. Please forgive.
I'm two weeks into this mom of three gig and let me tell ya', it's not for the faint of heart. Mainly I think that's because I suck at sleep deprivation. The Coup de Gras was spending a whole day by myself with all three at home. Mmmhmm. I even got a NAP. I felt pretty amazing. Unfortch, the lack of sleep is a cumulative thing and leaves me feeling dull and a bit maudlin. It also makes me understand how people with less support and less life experience shake their babies. My solution is to be topless the majority of the time (sorry if that's TMI) and put that baby in bed with me. It's about survival.
So this has turned from a post about being the mom of 3 under 4 into a post about how I am not a fan of the newborn stage of life. Blasphemy, I know. As mothers we're supposed to being a blissed-out haze of love with our wee ones, but in my life I am disheveled, chronically exhausted and ever-waiting for some kind of reinforcement that this little being that is dominating my life actually appreciates my sacrifices. I'm not talking about a well-worded note, I'm just saying a smile would be nice. Until then, I'll be plodding along in a sleep-deprived haze trying to find something half-way intelligent to relate in adult conversation.
I've started a campaign like that for LGBT teens, only for moms of newborns: "It Gets Better." Okay, really the campaign is only for me.