504 Hours

It's been almost a month since I've written anything. And not because I meant to take a break. But because the baby won't stop crying. Because When he falls asleep, most times I still have to hold him, and rock him, or he wakes and is inconsolable. Understandably angry because all he wants is sleep.

And I identify with him in the worst way. 

Which brings me to today's topic. Exhaustion.

Everyone says how tired you will be. When you don't have kids, you listen as they say this to you. Shake your head in agreement. Maybe even smile a little. It's a gesture my 4 year old niece does, when she's trying to appease you as you're speaking to her, but really she has no idea what the hell you're saying. It's the same thing. 

Because really you don't understand what tired is, until you've been up every half an hour in the night, to nurse, to rock, to pat the back of a fussy baby. To change a wet or poopy diaper...Breast milk spilling  down the front of your body like a roof leak. 

And then comes morning. And day. And the baby still does not sleep. Or if he does, it's in small hour long stints. Waking up and raising his little chubby fists. Hungry. Wet. Lonely. Gassy. 

When he does sleep, you do housework. Because after all, that is your job. Stay at home mom. Housewife. Home maker. 

When you are this tired-this tired-it feels like your brain is trudging through mud, the consistency of pudding. 

Easy things fuck you up. Adding sums in your head. Words escape you. Silly words like waffle or shoe. All of a sudden you cannot remember your age. Or what day or time it is. 

It's almost as if your body becomes sensorily numb to anything but the baby. 

Someone may touch your arm, and you may not feel it. One of the little dogs may have an accident at the door because you did not see his interest in going outside.

But also, It's such a wonderful thing. This fuzzy tired feeling.

Because you are there with this new love in your life. And he is warm and smells delicious, and is posted up in your arms, small gulping sounds as he nurses. And you watch the sun come up, changing from shadows on his face to a pink blush against his cheeks. 

Or you look over your jasmine tea, and he is smiling as he dreams, fingers and toes twitching against the blankets.
Try to remember all of these little details, because as they say, this time flys by. He is already almost two months old, and eventually he wont want me to rock him to sleep, or maybe he'll pull away when I try to smooth his hair, or rub his back.
So, yeah, exhaustion takes it's toll. I have heavy bags, yesterdays make up smudged at the corners of my eyes. My hair is unbrushed, and Im pretty sure I haven't showered or changed clothes....But how am I to remember.
But I am happy.
Down to the soul happy. I have everything I ever wanted. My love is in the other room, working on her art. The baby is asleep next to me in his swing. And I am thinking of them both, while I write this blog. I am wide awake and dreaming.