I’ve been awake since 2am. I’m not a night person. I’m a mom. A mom to three wonderful little angles, who apparently missed the memo that night time is for sleep. My oldest kicked things off this morning. He needed to use the rest room, which he just had to wake me up to tell me. Then the baby woke up to nurse. Fine. I’m up anyway. Then the middle darling woke up screaming, as she’s been doing that every night for a week now. ‘Okay, Elizabeth, I’m sorry but mama can’t help you. Baby is nursing.’
And here we are, at 3:39 am. Baby is still up, playing in his crib. Elizabeth is still yelling, alone in her room. ‘Mama still hasn’t had a free moment to help you Liz.’ I feel bad, ya know. She wants to see me. I should be happy my kids always call out for me when they wake up in the morning. They love me, they want to see me. But I’m tired. My husband is sound asleep. I’m jealous. I want to sleep too. But I don’t. I never do. I wake up every night to help the kids go back to sleep, but who helps me?
Being a mother is a thankless job. It’s tedious, I work long hours with no break. I’m a maid, a cook, a pastry chef, a teacher, a sleep coach, a nanny. It’s exhausting and there just isn’t enough coffee in the world to make this mama not tired. Don’t get me wrong though, my kids do say thank you. I know they appreciate me, but still.
Mama needs a break.