Today’s mommy meltdown is brought to you in part by an overly intelligent 15-month-old and a set of ridiculous lungs.
The sun pleasantly peeked through my bedroom blinds, quietly playing peek-a-boo with me as I lay in bed pretending to be asleep still as little miss vivacious was rustling about in her crib. I move, as if a snail, to grab my phone without her noticing I’m awake.
The sun peeking even stronger through my closed blinds, the destructive pitter-patter of rain smacking against my window. Quietly scrolling through my email hoping for the job interview that never came.
Saoirse becoming louder as the minutes pass, moving more violently in her crib, checking to see if I was awake yet.
I roll over on to my side, blankets pulled high on my head, phone close to my face, ignoring the excruciating animal calls originating from the corner of my bedroom.
My spider senses tingling as the animal calls are becoming more and more pronounced as the time passes. Lifting my leg up to block my face, I roll over on to my back. Suddenly silence fills my furniture filled room.
I didn’t dare move out of fear that she would see me awake. To my dismay, it didn’t work as she is more aware than I give her credit for.
Slowly crouching down in her crib, she began to parrot her head from side to side; toddler babbling to fill the void of silence. I closed my eyes, my body heavy, and began to drift back to dreamland central.
She wasn’t trying to have that, as she popped up quick as the Devil in her crib. My leg still up, eyes staring at the ceiling, phone clutched tightly to my chest. Carefully tilting my head towards her, face still blocked, I acknowledge she wants me up. However, I refused to physically remove myself from the comfort of my bed.
Her eyes widen, hands butcher gripping the railing, legs stout, she gave a slight nod of challenge accepted.
You would think by now that I would have learned my lesson about challenging my toddler. By now you would think that I wouldn’t even risk it, especially knowing the usual outcomes. By now you would think that I would be a better parent, better human being, and less of a shit starter. Apparently I haven’t hit that portion of adulthood yet, because I once again, I challenged my toddler.
She opened her mouth slowly, eyes fixated on the location of my face, chin tucked below the railing, her hands gripped firmly.
She released a squeel in a high falsetto, monotone, continuous vocality.
The sound not only startled me, but by instinct, my hands moved slowly to protect my ears. Then there was silence. My hands slowly slid down, their backs hitting the wrinkled pillow case. I started the sigh of relief, when I realized, I prematurely celebrated. She was no where near done yet.
She released a yell in a high falsetto, monotone, continuous vocality. The veins in her neck popping with excitement. The bedroom walls reverberated her with resounding agreement.
No matter how much I covered my ears, rolled around in bed, ostriched myself in-between pillows, the sound would not go away.
The squeels higher in falsetto, more monotone, and longer than the one prior, I gave in.
My pillow flying through the air, my upper body straight as a bean pole.
“I’m up little one! I’m up! Can you stop with the gothic concert now?” My hands rubbing the onset migraine breaking through my cranium.
She just smiled and sat down in her crib.
My legs lazily thrown over the side of the bed, I completely forgot that I had threw my pillow in the air, as it comes and smacks me in the back of my head. My bedroom filling with belly laughter and giggles.
I again begin to rub my temples, praying away the migraine that’s refusing to go back to its home.
And I got up and out of bed. Of course, not without tripping over my maternity pillow and face planting into my rower.