more wa wa wa

and this scintillating update is brought to you by Daniel and his failure to nap. He hasn't had an afternoon sleep since I don't know when. Too long, and he's not old enough to not need to avail himself of The Nap because he gets all overtired and annoying without one, and quite simply, Boy + Nap = Good, while Boy - Nap = I need more vodka. Stat.

I thought I'd lucked out today when he was so tired he was practically asleep on his feet today, so I put him to bed and wished him sweet dreams, and when I left, all was quiet. When I checked on him later though, I found the contents of all the drawers spread across the floor, and the boy wonder standing innocently by the door with steam coming out of the back of his pants. Hey, did you note the rhyming there? drawer, floor, door. ANYWAY, back to the steaming pants which, if "ohmyfuck" came in a colour, as in green, amber, red and ohmyfuck, that's what colour code would have been called on this emergency. Jesus. Those same contents also prove that miracles really do happen because the law of physics would suggest that you can't eat more than you poop, but the dude does. Daniel is depriving himself of food as much as he is of sleep, so I have NO idea where a poop the size of his own head came from.

Speaking of, Daniel finally had an accident in his big boy pants (BIGBAHPAHS!!) the other day, and while it was, on a scale of 1 to 10, a 72 in re its grossness, it was also a learning experience, and since then, the boy has done two poops on the potty. Also, one more in his pants, giving him a two for two score as we go to print.

I can handle the poop though (in a not too literal fashion, mind), especially as it generally arrives while he's still wearing his sleep nappy, but I'm having trouble coping with the sleep deficit, and I reckon I'm crankier than he ever is, so he gets it. I'm not talking hitting him because thank god, I've (so far) been able to (quite easily) escape my (morbid and quite unrealistic) fear of losing my shit and cracking him a good one, but I get short tempered and mouthy and god help me, I YELLED at him yesterday.

Ah yes, that was a proud moment when my sweet little boy fussed around my feet until I told him to "get out get out GET OUT!!", and let's not talk about the time I turned on him and demanded "What, Daniel?? WHAT??!".

He might get antsy and irritating when he's tired, but it's not because he's being a disgruntled little shit, it's because he's so damned HAPPY that he gets a little out of control, and I just want him to calm the fuck down and while he's at it, maybe shut the fuck up already, because I get disgruntled and irritating when I don't get to close that bedroom door, breathe a sigh of relief, and get my time out, you know? Which in NO WAY excuses shouting at him like that. I've made him cry so much these past few days because I feel so overwhelmed with being on duty every. single. moment, and right now, a wedding band and a father sound disturbingly attractive because in that particular fantasy, I can hand over the reins and not feel guilty for doing so once in a while. .

I'd like to blame my overwhelmedness (IT'S A WORD) on hormones, and maybe I even can because I do feel hormonal and this is my first cycle after loading up on the fertiltuy drugs, but even if it is all that, none of it excuses being so damn mean to anyone, much less a child whose only crime is loving life a little much for his mother to handle right now.

I feel like a total failure for feeling stressed out by motherhood, and I feel totally guilty for wondering if a night without him sometime soon isn't something I need to do.

Talk about lose/lose situation thoguh, because I KNOW that if I had that night off, I'd feel guilty for that too.