A Few Good Questions

If there's one thing I love more than most things it's sleeping. Really. A good nap is right up there with clean, baby lotion smelling babies and cinnamon rolls from Costco in my book...in my next life I'd like to be a Koala bear. I could totally deal with smelling like cough drops if it meant I could sleep for eighteen hours a day.

And so I wonder why it is that on the days that I have nothing to do, and no where to be, that Booger Head doesn't give me a bunch of crap about going to bed and then sleeps like the dead until I wake him up at ten? BUT on mornings I have to be somewhere bright and early, say a mother-daughter pre-vacation hair appointment that some genius made for 9am, I find myself on the couch at 3 in the freaking am crying "Please go to sleep. If you go to sleep now I can get four hours before I have to get up...please Baby. Please..." to a baby who couldn't care less.

And why, WHY?  WHY?! After I drag my achy butt out of bed a mere 3.5 hours after getting into it, get myself all showered, and primped, and fed, and sit down to feed the baby why is THAT the moment that I get a text from my adorable stylist...who lost the keys to her new place...and is there anyway we can reschedule for tomorrow? Sob. Sure...after all, the only thing more fun than getting up at the crack of dawn today will be doing it again tomorrow...oh well. Maybe I can take a quick nap while Booger Head sleeps this morning.

Yeah. I must be more tired that I realize.

My kids can smell tired the way that...other...ummm, scary things...can smell fear. If they detect the teeniest hint of exhaustion in the air it creates a sort of frenzy. Messes and noises that have been ignored for weeks are brought back to the surface and I spend all morning long fighting a losing battle with my eyelids while also trying to keep them from burning the place down while slip in and out of consciousness. (Hooray for multi-tasking!) Which leads me to wonder why on the days when I am not too tired to remember my name, let alone any of theirs, they're perfectly happy to veg quietly in front of PBS kids all morning? BUT on mornings when I am so tired I can't remember if I already nursed the baby on the side I just finished on (I no kidding have been so tired I nursed him twice on the same side in one feeding); why is that the morning they behave like herd of feral children who've never been inside a house before?

I'll tell you why.

Karma. All that "What comes around goes around" garbage. I was a terrible baby. TERRIBLE. My brother, Uncool Brandon, and I are a mere eighteen months apart and he slept through the night before I did. No joke. So all of those late nights of baby screaming-ness where you console yourself by imagining your grumpy baby dealing with their own grumpy baby really do eventually come to fruition. I have to admit I have to feel a little bad for the future Mrs. Booger Head...