summer's end
summer is officially over. how do i know this? because labor day weekend is upon us? no, that is the answer i would expect of a LOSER. a pathetic childless loser. i know that summer is over because when the kid woke up this morning .... it was still dark outside.
first of all, a note about how the kid wakes up. i have friends with kids. at the tot lot, where i do my "comparing and despairing," i talk to my friends. their kids, they say, wake up with nary a peep. their angelic children arise with a coo ... and lay in their cribs for a while. they may babble sweetly: "mama, baba, poppee," in gentle baby tones. they play with a stuffed animal. gradually, the child will get bored and start to whine. that's ok because mom and dad have had time to wake up and are eager to fetch baby.
my kid? every single morning (and after every single nap) she wakes up by having her skull split open, green hellfire erupting from her throat. before she even opens her eyes, she is screaming like robert plant in the opening strains of "immigrant song." aaaauuugghAAAAUUUGHHaaauuughhhh -- valhalla i am coming! and i am taking this whole fucking borough with me! no gentle babbling. no cute crib rustling or plushtoy playing. just siren-wailing.
this morning it was siren-wailing at 5:30 in the am. she was shrieking in tongues, communing with her aggrieved ancestors. it was still dark outside. i went from experiencing deep REM cycle sleep (in which i was cavorting with eight oiled up gisele bundchens and a midget conjoined-twin) to suddenly knowing what it would feel like to have a skinhead doc marten my head into the sidewalk. normally, at 5:30 in the morning, i would pretend to sleep through her screaming and make my wife deal with it. it's our ritualistic game of bed-chicken: let's see who will cave first and get the kid. but there was no denying it was my turn to get the kid.
so i got the kid, fighting every urge to pull her out of the crib by her ululating tongue.
did i mention it was still dark out? ugh.
happy labor day weekend y'all. here's some excellent scissor sisters gaiety to get things off to a proper start:
first of all, a note about how the kid wakes up. i have friends with kids. at the tot lot, where i do my "comparing and despairing," i talk to my friends. their kids, they say, wake up with nary a peep. their angelic children arise with a coo ... and lay in their cribs for a while. they may babble sweetly: "mama, baba, poppee," in gentle baby tones. they play with a stuffed animal. gradually, the child will get bored and start to whine. that's ok because mom and dad have had time to wake up and are eager to fetch baby.
my kid? every single morning (and after every single nap) she wakes up by having her skull split open, green hellfire erupting from her throat. before she even opens her eyes, she is screaming like robert plant in the opening strains of "immigrant song." aaaauuugghAAAAUUUGHHaaauuughhhh -- valhalla i am coming! and i am taking this whole fucking borough with me! no gentle babbling. no cute crib rustling or plushtoy playing. just siren-wailing.
this morning it was siren-wailing at 5:30 in the am. she was shrieking in tongues, communing with her aggrieved ancestors. it was still dark outside. i went from experiencing deep REM cycle sleep (in which i was cavorting with eight oiled up gisele bundchens and a midget conjoined-twin) to suddenly knowing what it would feel like to have a skinhead doc marten my head into the sidewalk. normally, at 5:30 in the morning, i would pretend to sleep through her screaming and make my wife deal with it. it's our ritualistic game of bed-chicken: let's see who will cave first and get the kid. but there was no denying it was my turn to get the kid.
so i got the kid, fighting every urge to pull her out of the crib by her ululating tongue.
did i mention it was still dark out? ugh.
happy labor day weekend y'all. here's some excellent scissor sisters gaiety to get things off to a proper start:
posted by mr. nice guy at 12:30 PM
7 Comments:
I hate those days of going to work in the dark and coming home in the dark. You start feeling like a vampire.
My son's exactly the same: he always wakes up screaming...and it's especially brutal when it's dark out.
~Brooklyn Girl
Mrs. Nice Guy used to wake up and babble for at least 15 minutes in a sweet baby voice and then grin from ear to ear when I walked in. Ask mater Nice Guy how you woke up, that might answer the question about baby Nice Guy's wake-up routine.
My daughter used to shriek in much the way you described. She eventually stopped. I think she was around two years old.
eh... we co-sleep and my 2yo son will usually wake up suddenly, declare "all-done peep!" in a determined voice and pry my eyes open with the tiny fingers of one hand while shoving a book in my face with the other. It happened several times before 6am this past week. He's also almost totally potty-trained so he stays dry thru the night but when he gets up and says he has to go poooootty, I bolt out of bed with him in tow, in my never-ending effort to get him there in time. Fun times!
That's how mine always woke up. Screaming. Until he was about 3. He woke up screaming every single blessed day. I think that period of time took ten years off my life. So I feel ya.
We just dropped him off at college. Before that he was staying out all night and going to bed just as I left for work. Name yer poison, matey.
yeah...you think they will be opera singerswhen they are grown? The way they can start off low and get louder and louder and higher and higher..without taking a breath! 5.30 is wake up time here too, I am so old for this.
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