When I agreed to have children, I knew there would be some sleepless nights, but this is ridiculous. How do parents function on so little sleep? And where are they? They aren't hanging out at the kid park looking so pulled together in their hip jeans, Keen Sneakers, LL Bean fleece jackets, pulling neatly portioned snackies out of their orange Phil and Ted strollers. Their toddlers romping about in tidy Baby Gap ensembles, little curls tied up in color coordinated ribbons, all giddy and well rested.
No those are the parents who while gently pushing their little ones in the basket swings, faced away from the sun, love to brag about how their precious Aiden is now sleeping through the night, and has been since he was 6 weeks old. Assholes. Go ahead and flaunt your sleep in front of the rest of us. Nice.
Meanwhile, it's 11 AM and I'm shocked that we made it out of the house. Me, coffee in one hand, cell phone in the other I release my spawn onto the blacktop to encourage free range roaming. Go- run, climb, spin, slide, dig, laugh, chase, scoot go on and burn off some energy so you can go home and take a long, hard nap. I watch my toddler run off a few paces and turn to beg me to chase her. No no no, we came here for YOU to burn off some energy. Some extra energy, not use up the tiny bit that is going to drive us home after this excursion.
I notice that Zoe doesn't looked as pulled together as the other kids do. None of us do. My dirty hair raked into the ever present ponytail, smashed bangs barely grazing black smudged eyes- if I actually took the time to put on eyeliner or mascara at some point in the last 3 days. Lips pale, chapped. Skin grayish, sullen. I'm wearing what my husband has come to call my "uniform". The same velour sweat pants and not matching sweatshirt that I wore through most of my pregnancy. The sweatshirt is especially flattering as it's all stretched out from being wrapped around a huge baby belly. I notice that Zoe is dressed like a quilt. No literally, a quilt. I've seen these kids on the playground before. I thought their moms or nannies just let them dress themselves and embraced their "free spirit", but now I know that their mommies are just sleep deprived and the laundry pile in their basement far exceeds the amount of clean clothes anywhere else in the house. Zoe has on striped leggings, a pink sock, a yellow sock, a diagonally striped sundress of a different print and a sweatshirt of an entirely different color from any of the others represented below which almost seems an impossible feat. Her hair, though clean and "brushed" is parted weird and hanging funny from not being combed well after her bath last night and is the least of our worries, really. Another mom (looking more like myself in style than that of the formerly described princess-mommies) asks me, feeling badly, if we have any extra fishy crackers or snacks that we could share. Evidently they walked to the park and her own quiltie kids are getting hungry and she forgot to bring snacks. Feeling a sudden bond with this other haggered mommy, more than happy to help out, I reach into our stroller trunk and find that not only did I forget juice and snacks myself, but I also forgot to bring diapers. Oh god, please keep the poos at bay for a while longer, please.
