CONFESSIONS OF A FACEBOOK FAILURE: Year 3 Day 2

“Mommy, sometimes I feel sad when you act like the Hulk, just cuz I wake you up cuz I love you.”

“Thank you for sharing your feelings, Pumpkin. I am so sorry I made you feel sad.”

Unspoken rebuttal: Kid…sometimes I second guess the sanity behind my promotion of social/emotional language in my sadistic little truth-sayers…especially at 6am.

2 years ago today, I decided to switch out my selfies for shame, in an attempt to change the face of this fiction. So in the spirit of giving, I am gifting y’all once again with a daily dose of self-esteem, in knowing that no matter how bad it gets, mine is probably way worse. I hope you enjoy diving into my daily, dirty little secrets this December.

Now, back to today’s sinful spoils…

12 AM: Crawl into bed.

1 AM: Watermelon dances on the bladder and I am awoken for a reluctant waddle to the pot.

2 AM: Midnight Monster #2 abruptly enters the inside of my ear cavity, interrupting the magical mystery of R.E. (never quite get to the M.) sleep with “Mama! MAMA! I had a nightmare and…” I mimic her interruption with, “Pillow Pile, Honey. Go snuggle in the Pillow Pile.” This formally named household staple being a now constant stack of couch pillows that line the edge of the king we refuse to fully surrender, both to soothe their 4 am fears, while simultaneously soothing our parenting egos over admitting total domination by the tiny room rebellers. But on this night the monster’s dreams centered around floor dwelling spiders, and for equal parts empathy and exhaustion, I welcomed the rebel into the king.

3 AM: Watermelon dances on the bladder and I am awoken for a reluctant waddle to the pot.

4 AM: I awake to something on my head. Oh. It is a 3 year old…on my head. When did Midnight Monster #3 get invited in to the forbidden king? Oh. And what is that in my ribs? Just the horizontally spread octopus I surrendered to at 2 AM. Ugh! Do I wake the rebels, remove them from the king, and risk a 4 AM rise and shine? Heck no! So I crawl onto the Pillow Pile, THEIR Pillow Pile, and toss and turn the dancing watermelon to a potentially painless position on the floor, in hopes of slumber.

5 AM: Watermelon dances on the bladder and I am awoken for a reluctant waddle to the pot. I now realize that, at 7 months pregnant, the potentially painless position on the floor, has actually produced much pain, and not much slumber, but I crawl back under the covers and cry myself back to the mythical world of R.E……( no M., again).

6 AM: Midnight Monster #2 is attempting to “whisper” at a volume that could damage the drums, with a proximity that is now ensuring it. “Mommy. MOMMY! Is it time to wake up now. Mommy. MOMMY!” I surrender again and send her out into the light, as I pull the cover over my throbbing head.

6:02 AM Midnight Monster #2 returns to awake Midnight Monster #3 with a handful of melted chocolate from HIS advent calendar, because she “wanted to be sweet” and get it out for him.

6:03 AM Screams of terror emerge from Midnight Monster #3 as he realizes the sacred moment of opening that daily flap on his cardboard box of Trader Joe’s holiday treats has been forever stolen by his sister. In a tornado of terror, the chocolate is smeared across the king, as the Pillow Pile is destroyed in a tiny, but terrible tumble of sibling rage, and both monsters end up on my head…again.

6:04 AM “The Hulk” emerges from her Pillow Pile! And yes, I believe this mama qualified for this monstrous metaphor in this moment, as I managed to reach an octave not intended for human ears.

6:05 AM “Mommy, sometimes I feel sad when you act like the Hulk, just cuz I wake you up cuz I love you.”

“Thank you for sharing your feelings, Pumpkin. I am so sorry I made you feel sad.”

Unspoken rebuttal: Kid…sometimes I second guess the sanity behind my promotion of social/emotional language in my sadistic little truth-sayers…especially at 6am.

If you can relate, please LIKE, or SHARE, or FOLLOW, or read some more.

Help me avoid the morning-after-writer’s-remorse that wells from the paranoia of my signature self-shaming, by giving me your virtual nod and smile, and I will promise to divulge deeper despairs in days to come.