Tagged: adrien grenier

Moonwalk

noun. A dance technique that presents the illusion of the dancer being pulled backwards while attempting to walk forward.
noun. Story of my life.

I have reached a new low as a mother. I think I entered a whole new category of craziness yesterday between 12.30am and 2am.

One of my job tasks as a stay at home mom is to ensure that DH has a decent night sleep so he can actually half function when he starts working at 7.30am. This means that as soon as the kids scream in the middle of the night or decide to take over our bed I am the canon fodder. I sing nursery rhymes or prepare a warm milk bottle to drug them back to sleep. I placate them against the floor when they start running around the living room like a bunch of wackos, a little like a SEAL officer would hold down a terrorist about to blow themselves up. Literally.

So yesterday night as G woke up a screaming L when he decided to sneak out their bedroom I had to make a decision and let G take my place in my bed …while I sat by L’s crib to pat his bum back to sleep. Yeah right. The little bastard has extra sensorial capabilities, he is like a freaking location warfare device. If you move away from his crib in the slightest, he sees, hears, feels, you are doing it even though it’s pitch black in his room and by the fifth time you are trying to go back to YOUR bed, you have stopped breathing to make no noise. To no avail, he starts screaming again. And when you come back, he stops immediately and he smiles. I actually saw it, the little bastard smiled.

So, at my 6th attempt I decided I have become a cat and slowly crawled on my bended knees softly putting one paw in front of the other, the full Cat Cow undulation (my virtual yoga teacher would have been proud). Of course then as I was about to exit, CRAAAACK !!!! I stepped on the wood floor slats that creak, fucking hell!!! Someone, kill me now, please.

I decided to give up and laid flat on my belly by L’s side. I started thinking stupid things like ‘I can see that the cleaner has been thorough with dust cleaning last Friday’, ‘Why am I more protective of G than of the other two?’, ‘How does a government shutdown really work in real life and not in a West Wing reality? ‘ , ‘Maybe I am not going to chop my hair mane after all, maybe motherhood also changed me in that I am a long hair kind of gal now’ , ‘this business idea I am working is absolutely crazy, or what?’, ‘Adrian Grenier from Entourage (spotted earlier in the day) does have really amazing eyes but he looks shorter than on TV’, bla bla bla

Eventually I heard L’s deep snore and decided to slide my whole body flat as a stingray moping the floor way from his crib. Turns out that an even distribution of body weight is preventing the floor from cracking. Point duly noted. However, not a great move when wearing ‘body shaping’ underwear because my crotch was B-U-R-N-I-NG. Cotton next time.

The worst part of all this is that I don’t think DH slept particularly well because this morning, his face looked like a truck ran over it. A garbage truck to be more precise. As for me, I act crazier than my usual self. I was taken aback by DH’s annoyed voice : ‘what are you doing?’
He was standing in front of me all suited up for work and I realized that I was pushing a milk bottle I had just prepared against his mouth…I replied:’I am not entirely sure but I think I am trying to feed you milk???’

Bonkers, absolutely bonkers.