“I’ll take a cup of coffee with a side of cynicism.”

There’s been a Spring Break vacation in between my last post and now, but let’s be honest – it’s mainly this that’s keeping me from being diligent in my writing:

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I’m exhausted. I can hardly imagine why – I only spend 2 hours a day driving, 10 hours a day working and 24 hours a day parenting. Somewhere within that time frame, I’m also growing my faith, pursuing my marriage, supposedly working out, sleeping, taking care of our new home, decorating, and pursuing a dream and hobby. It’s a fun and blessed journey, don’t get me wrong – but I’m just tired. It doesn’t help that recently, my youngest little lamb Olivia, who is so close to two years old that I’m Pinterest planning her birthday party in all my spare time, has decided to digress in her well-established sleep patterns. What is this nonsense? Her entire bedtime routine is now being used to strategize her anti-sleep methods and to plot against us. The very second we lay her down, she begins to scream and no matter how hard we try to “wait it out” – we’re going in every 15-30 minutes or so to soothe and reassure  her. One time, I was even so stumped that I let her cry for 45 minutes. I knew in my heart that everything was completely fine and convinced myself that she was messing with me, and if I gave in, she’d know I would raise the white flag.

We’re two weeks into this fun new game, and she’s finally only waking once a night – but nevertheless, still getting up when she’s old enough to know better.  *Sigh.*

Sleep deprivation is tough on everyone, but being required to get up like clockwork to shower, become human  again and show up to work on time with a positive attitude and brain power is tough. Am I right? Last week my Starbucks expenditures spiked, I was doing double takes in the bathroom at my blood-shot eyes and frizzy hair and thinking “wow, now that is a polished professional.” The better side of mothering I guess is the rewarding perspective and attitude of “you know I have small people in my household, so just deal.” It’s kind of along the same line as the elderly who speak completely unfiltered and pass gas openly on their way to the bank teller (the old folks are clearly the only ones who still physically go in to a bank).

I may be biased, but the working mother deserves extra accolades for these times. If for nothing else, wearing dress clothes and heels on three hours of sleep without busting a kankle.

So here’s to all the sleep deprived mommas still seeing patients, closing deals, making and receiving calls, teaching stranger’s children and representing your clients in court just hours after you were ninja rolling out of your precious angel’s room – you earn a Superwoman badge in my book. Or better yet, a completely justified excuse to drink as many liquid calories as you’d like. May your little one(s) soon grace you with eight to twelve hours of sleep, even if you catch just six because you accidentally fell into a Netflix bingeing or YouTube rabbit hole again. You truly are a master of all things, and you’re not alone.

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