I Hate Goodbyes

Last Saturday was the worst day of my life.

My son dropped his afternoon sleep!  180 minutes of precious freedom.  Gone.

For those who don't get it, a kid's nap is like a holiday OK?  A shot of heroine straight to the brain stem.  Instant bliss, the return of serenity and oh god it's so sweet, to just be still and do nothing - in the overall sense of the word nothing, as in stare-at-the-wall nothing, as in sit-on-Facebook-for-3-hours nothing.  I must confess I don't understand it, my kid has the energy of a thousand suns he should be sleeping 20 out of 24 hours.  But no, he's over it.

This is why they invented school.  It had jack-shit to do with the industrial revolution, which is what history will have you believe.  It was a bunch of parents sitting around going 'OK how do we get these kids out of our hair for half the day?  Wait, I know ...'

You may ponder what could be so exhausting about this parenting thing that I shed actual tears over an afternoon sleep?  Allow me to explain.  When you are in the presence of your child you are two things:

1) A Slave

Since they are incapable of doing anything by themselves you have to do it!  All of it.  Wake up (really fucking early), change nappy, make breakfast, supply tea, set up table, help feed, clean up mess, change clothes (yours and theirs), brush teeth (yours and theirs), wipe face, brush hair (not yours, you can no longer be bothered), play games, throw the ball, build puzzles, change nappy, read stories, snack time, make food, set up table, help feed, clean up mess, repeat playtime, lunch, set up table, make food, change nappy, help fee ... you see where I'm going with this?

When they are old enough to speak they will order you around like the hired help and you will be powerless to refuse.  Why?  Because if you don't the child will starve and when they say 'please mommy' after you've been ramming it down their throats to remember their manners, they could be asking for a unicorn that shits rainbows and you would say yes.  Slavery is nowhere near dead my friends.

and 2) A Bodyguard

Finally, your little darling could use some fresh air, so you pack a mountain of 'in cases' into a bag and head for the beach.  You have now entered the zone of Paranoid-As-Fuck-Mommy and become capable of killing people with your bare hands should it be necessary.  Anxiety does not even begin to cover it.  Your nonchalant offspring on the other hand, saunters around like a tiny president, complete with sense of entitlement and delusions of eternal life.  In the background is you: scanning the environment for rogue waves, vicious dogs, kidnappers, drunk drivers, falling coconuts and broken glass. 

And this is just one example of one day out of thousands and thousands and thousands.  The relentless pursuit of perfection is exhausting, the emotional minefield of fear is exhausting and the physical toll of the schlepp is exhausting.

That afternoon sleep was the life raft onto which I clung as I sailed through the choppy waters of the mornings.  It was the salve on a wound, the gin to my tonic, the boerie to my roll.  I will mourn it like the passing of a good friend, my old mate, Mr Peace & Quiet.

* Sniff *