Some days when I scroll through my Facebook news feed, I miss having family close by.
When I see my mom friends posting about their date night or the movie they just saw in theaters, I know their bundles of joy are getting spoiled by an over-the-moon grandparent or relative.
That’s when being a military family is hard. Our family is a three-day car ride away in Connecticut and I can’t just call up my mom when I need a sanity beak.
They say life doesn’t give you more than you can handle, a notion that new moms of singletons and multiples alike must remind themselves of daily.
For the past two and a half weeks a virus has made its way through our home.
What I first thought was an allergic reaction to green beans, turned into an even more sleepless week in my house — if that’s even remotely possible. And just when I thought life was going to return to normal, my daughter caught it and she isn’t handling it very well.
Two trips to the emergency room, a prescription for Motrin, Tylenol and diaper rash cream later, we are all still miserable.
My once good sleeper has digressed back to her newborn schedule and is ready to party every two to three hours. Thankfully her twin brother is back to normal and I am even more thankful, I think, that they were nice enough to not be sick at the same time.
People tell you to expect to be tired when you have kids, but no one tells you what to expect when your kid, or in my case kids, get sick for the first time.
It’s. The. Worst.
Sitting in an ER with a miserable 6½-month-old in the middle of the night for six hours is no picnic. They really should have the ER set up in two parts: one for adults and one for kids. Which brings me to my next wish list item.
The pharmacy should also be set up said way so parents with those sick kids can get in and out. I don’t know what’s worse, waiting to be seen by a doctor or waiting for said relief to be dispensed.
Either way, all I have wanted for myself is a sick day. I just want to curl up in my bed, alone, and sleep and leave the adulting and child rearing to someone else for a day.
Well, ladies and gentlemen, the gods have smiled upon me and sent me the cavalry in the form of my mother and my 97-year-old grandmother.
I know I kind of brought this whole sleep deprivation thing onto myself, but I haven’t gotten more than a four-hour stretch of sleep since January. So when my husband told me he was going into the field for an entire week — after I stopped shaking in fear of solo twin parenting — part of me was insanely jealous that he wouldn’t be woken up to feed-snuggle-change or console a tiny human every two to three hours for five days.
I know, I’m terrible.
I love my kids dearly, but I don’t wish dealing with sick babies, on minimal sleep, for the past 2½ weeks on my worst enemy.
So to all those readers out there who complain their families live too close for comfort, consider yourself blessed. I have officially turned over the baby monitor to my mother and I can’t wait to experience the joy of a full nights' rest.