FTS o'clock

(This post was written in the early morning hours of Monday, May 28, 2012.  On my iPhone.  In bed.  As I waited for Polly Ann to cut the horseshit so I could *FINALLY* go the F to sleep.)

It is f*ck this shit o'clock in the morning (actually 6:00 am) and I have been up against my will with our girls for the past 45 minutes. Why, you ask?  Let me lay it down for you...

I was sleeping the sleep of angels when I was forcefully woken up by Polly Pocket who was seizing in my arms and barfing all over my chest (after a mere 2.5 hours sleep).  This was followed by a half-asleep, frantic clean-up in the dark until I realized the enormity of the "damage."  My anger frustration was quickly & quietly drowned out by the muffled sound of Claire sort of ummm... grunt-whining?!  Wait, key word here is MUFFLED.  F'in A.  That usually spells D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R.  I quickly turned on the light, attempted to "clean up" the barf, hurriedly toweled myself off (while still holding a spewing Lola, whose fallout would not be completely discovered until later) & then leaned over Scott (bumping him enough in the process to further jack up his thrown-out, sore, zingy back, thus causing him to scream out) to assess the beanbag situation on the floor on his side of bed to find AN EMPTY BEANBAG WITH CLAIRE NOWHERE IN SIGHT. (After her previous base-jumping escapades, our daring Mimi is no longer allowed on the bed unless being held in our arms.  :)

What did I do?  I'm innocent.  And perfect.  And sooooo cute.

I quickly put barfing Lola down only to spread more puke everywhere. I sprinted around to Scott's side of the bed, and I *STILL* didn't see Claire. WHERE WAS SHE?!?!?  I played Follow-The-Feeding-Pump-Cord only to find her UNDER THE BED on her tummy, doing push-ups, one after the other, still covered up, wide awake, and each time she reached her top form, her head hit the underside of our bed frame, which caused her to lower herself back down onto her chest and rinse/repeat over and over again. WHAT THE F*CK?!?!?!?!  I could not recreate or make this shit up if I tried.  My girl was grunt-whining because she was completely exhausted from God-knows-how-many push-ups (with resistance... ha!) during the early morning hours.  Suck on THAT, Tony Horton.


Dramatization of the event takes place below and contains Claire's super fierce stunt double, Cal.

Beanbag has been removed, feeding pump/bag not hooked up, and the light has been turned on to fully reveal "Claire's" final destination in the early morning hours of May 28, 2012.

Reenactment shows our victim, "Claire," in "her" full upright extension push-up, knocking "her" head on the underside of our bed.  Note the tucked-in thumbs, full lay-out prone position, and painful, frustrated grimace as a result of "her" newfangled mobility.  I am nominating this actor for an Emmy for his stellar performance in this dramatization.  Well done, Cal.  Well done.

Mid-rescue, Lola barfed 3 more times (which each time required me to leave Claire and hightail it back around to my side of the bed to hopefully rub Lola's nose fast enough to stave off impending puke.  Yeah, good times.  I was very disappointed it was only a 4-burp rag fiasco, down from her usual 8-10 in a 5-minute span.  What... a slacker!!!).  After 3 round-the-bed-back-and-forths, order was restored, though sleep was still far out of my reach (much like my daughter just was) due to Dwarf #2 who is, I'm pretty sure, NOCTURNAL (I swear I heard her "whooooing" earlier -- no lie) and only able to sleep semi-long stretches between 6-7 am through 10-11 am (+/-  3-4 hours... hahahaha!  Do the math on that one), which isn't feasible/healthy/sane for 99% of the population who reside on Planet f*ckin' Earth. 

It is damn near 7:00 am now, the sun is up, I am starving, the dogs are stirring, Scott's snoring like a mofo, Claire is passed out post-workout and doing her darling little sleep sucky-sucky sounds, Lola is still awake and now arching/grunting/"sticking it to me," and I am half-awake/borderline super pissed/ULTRA-PROUD of my apparently mobile Claire (!!!) but not the least bit rested, dammit.

Suck it... I mean... give me some space... ummmm... hold me... no, don't touch me EVERRRR... I hate you but you KNOW I love you but don't really know what I want because you are an a-hole, I mean, ummmm, my awesome MOTHERRRRR.
GAHHHHHH (said in her best Napoleon Dynamite voice)!!!!!!

Sleep (and a stress-free existence) is totally overrated.

Zzzzzz...

xo