At 3-3:30 a.m., I come awake. Often because already this baby is right on top of my bladder. But sometimes because a scared Kate has come to me for comfort. Or a thunderstorm is passing through.

I am awake for an hour, trying to calm my mind enough to sleep.

I’m so tired.

This morning, my alarm went off at 5:30 a.m., and I couldn’t get up. I hit snooze for nearly an hour.

I finally struggled out of bed and downstairs. I have to eat something first thing lately, or the nausea is worse than usual. Well, today, it was worse than usual anyway.

I’m sure glad I happened to clean that toilet before I puked in it.

And then Kate woke up and she had wet the bed. So I tended to her, showered but only half-dressed. Flora didn’t have night-time accidents once she was potty-trained, but Kate seems to have suffered a major setback yesterday.

All-in-all, Kate and I had difficult evening yesterday. She wouldn’t listen to me at Flora’s soccer practice, and she pooped her pants three times! And I didn’t have a change of clothes for her because I thought we were well past that. So, I threw out a pair of underpants (again) and she went commando for awhile, then she wore Flora’s pants (Flora had changed for soccer into shorts), and then the last 15 minutes of so of practice, she walked around with a poop stain on her butt.

Mother of the year, right here.

Lately it seems with Kate that everything requires negotiation — or, more to the point, bribes and/or threats. “If you do XX, you can have chocolate.” “If you do not listen to me, you cannot watch a TV show tonight.” EVERY SINGLE INTERACTION with her. Well, not dinner time often. That girl eats her weight in food every day lately.

Last night was a loss-of-privileges night. The not listening coupled with the poopy pants (and, yeah, that port-o-potty didn’t go anywhere) meant she didn’t get a TV show. (Flora did while I was bathing Kate.) I just had to ride out that storm.

It was nearly 10 p.m. before I went to bed, and I was dragging way before then.

Anyhoo, this post is nearly incoherent. But let me just add that I have buckets of laundry to fold (and, you know, actually launder), stairs to vacuum, and my parents visiting this weekend.

When’s my nap?

As an aside, I have a funny relationship with the word that is the title of this post.

5 thoughts on “Fatigued

  1. My theory is that the first-born babies are always the best behaved and most pleasant, or else there would be no second babies. We’re the bait used to further propagate the species.

    And the fact that I am a first-born should in no way impeach my premise. Really. ;o)#

    • I too am the oldest child. Which bears no impact on the fact that I think your point has merit.

      That said, sometimes in these negotiations with Kate I think to myself, “How did I get here again (with Bud)?”

      It will all be worth it when I’m holding my newborn, this I know. But I’m just having a tough go. Thank you for your support. 🙂

  2. We’re in the throes of a negotiation phase, too. My daughter is really having a tough time adjusting to the new baby, and everything is a challenge with her. On the advice of a friend who went through something similar, we finally set up a sticker chart where she gets one sticker for being helpful, etc., and once she gets five stickers, she gets to choose a prize out of a special prize basket. Not our finest hour, but it’s working pretty well so far … as long as I don’t think about the amount of chocolate she’s getting in “prizes” …

    • Hmmm. That chart idea is a good one, for both of my girls. We have one (with magnets); now to remember to implement it.

      Sorry she’s having new-baby issues! I guess it’s not unexpected, and I should brace myself for the same in a few months, but I hope things start smoothing out for you — and her — soon!

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