My youngest daughter requires a feeding tube to eat. This is a recent development in her health and has left my husband and I sleep deprived as if we are caring for a newborn. Oh, how I have forgotten what fun it is to live without sleep!
Whose idea was it to put hemorrhoid cream in a toothpaste-like tube? I thought it was a travel-sized Crest tube. Now my lips have shrunk into a super tight pucker and I can suck juice straight from the orange with a straw. But, thankfully, it makes my eyes bug out and I can keep them open all day long.
The neighbors think I've gotten stuck on myself. “Just look at her, so prissy. Just another columnist-come-lately.”
I think the postman thinks I'm being fresh.
I had to drop-off one of my daughters at middle school and suffered the looks and stares from the other kids.
My daughter kept telling me under her breath to knock it off. What could I do? I gave her a big kiss good-bye in front of her friends.
Now I'm developing a voice to go with my new look. It's a cross between Julia Childs and Elmo and makes me look like Bill Cosby — especially when I roll my eyes.
My husband isn't speaking to me anymore. He's cranky himself without sleep, but he thinks I'm mocking him whenever he tries to have a serious conversation with me.
So I had to buy a tube of oral anesthetic gel and put it on like lipstick. It made all the kids drool like St. Bernard dogs when I kissed them goodnight. And you know what they say about loose lips sinking ships.
An old friend happened to call that night and wanted to reminisce about old times. I couldn't believe my capacity for honesty! She's not speaking to me anymore.
I don't know how new parents do this. How do you stay up 48 hours with a newborn and get only 24 little ten-minute catnaps and not go out of your mind? It wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have four other fully rested children under foot, especially the three-year old.
While I'm trying to figure out how I put the cap for the feeding tube on backwards, as formula spurts everywhere, he gets dressed in his Sunday clothes and goes outside to make a mud puddle that would please monster truck fans.
Later he decides to play in the sandbox… the one that conveniently clumps when the cats use it.
My best friend these days is Blockbuster and my living room is now a fourteen-hour cinema. I serve popcorn for breakfast, hot dogs for lunch and nachos for dinner. The toddler isn't having any trouble at all clearing his plate. Just call me Mother-of-the-Year.
(Jelly Mom is written by Lisa Barker, author of Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane…Doesn't Mean You Are A Bad Parent! and syndicated through Martin-Ola Press/Parent To Parent. To publish Jelly Mom, buy the book or leave comments, please visit www.jellymom.com.)
