Last night Charlie couldn’t sleep. She’s hyped up on meds. She was bouncing in her crib like a baboon, with her whole body trampolining into the air, butt almost as high as her shoulders, nearly bouncing out of the crib. When I walked into her room, she’d start with the “huh huh huh huh huuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhh!!!” which translates loosely into “pickmeuppickmeuppickmeup
A mother’s worst enemy. And best friend.
I showed Charlie the boo-boo on my finger this morning and explained it was an “ouchie”. She frowned with concentration. “Boo…. boo?” she asked. “Yes, a boo-boo. See? When Mama kisses boo-boos, they feel all better” and I kissed my finger and then waggled it for her to see: “Alllll better!” She looked at me with one eyebrow lowered in suspicion, like she was saying: “What hoodoo voodoo doth you spouteth, Mother?? Do you seriously think I’m going to fall for that???”
When I pick Charlie up from daycare, there’s nothing better than seeing her hurl her little body in my direction, little chubby legs pumping fast to get to me for a bear hug. Huge smiles. But almost as soon as we reach the car, she is whining… sometimes already crying. She’s so tired. It makes the evenings difficult, to say the least. Some days it’s enough to rock her on the couch with a bottle, to have that down time to regenerate. We all need that, don’t we? But some nights even that doesn’t work, and she seems ready to go to bed by 6PM. Which we can’t do or she’ll be up at 3AM. Add steroids into this mix and it’s a moody disaster. I wish I could help her more, but these are long days that I have to work, to afford her daycare. As Charlie would say: “Dah-jeee, whey ahh ewww??” which translates literally into; “Sugar Daddy, where are you???”
What? Doesn't your kid say that?