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Cat Naps are for Cats

It’s 5:15AM in Arizona, Saturday morning. In the past 48 hours I believe that I’ve enjoyed a whopping 12 hours of sleep, delivered in increments of 3 hours. I decided to be a grownup and make a few grownup decisions. At 55 years of age I do believe that I understand the evolution of the life cycle.


When you’re born you are totally helpless, and a bit demanding by nature. Someone is completely responsible for your every need, and a few whims. You set your own schedule and the rest of the world will adjust. Then you begin the growth process and become a toddler. Yeah, that has got to be the best time of your life. You thought it was when you were old enough to get into, and hopefully out of, various shenanigans. Negative! As a toddler, you still have the mentality of a newborn but now you realize there are rules in place. Rules. Silly little ideas that parents come up with to test your abilities to defy; and defy you will. As far as you can tell, even gravity is subject to your abilities to defy. Skipping the definition of the other stages of life right now – kid, preteen, teenager, older teenager (the years between 20 – 35ish) and maturity - because in this case they aren’t relevant.


Let us talk about the beginning of the Golden Years. Fabulous Fifties. I am here! Reverting in my brain obviously, since I honestly believed that I could take on an infant and a toddler. At.The.Same.Time.


My daughter in law, let’s call her Emily, is freaking Super Woman, for two reasons: 1. You’ve never seen the two of them in the same room at the same time; and 2. She does this every single day, mostly alone. So, from this moment on, when she expresses exhaustion I will rise to the occasion and do whatever I can to give her relief.



The baby, let’s call her Minnesota, is as cute as a button and completely in charge. Feed me NOW! Burb me lest I scream and flail like a lunatic NOW! Change my diaper NOW! Oh, thanks but let’s do this two more times because I’m assuming you knew I wasn’t done those other times. No, I do not care how much diapers cost, which by the way, is somewhere around $500 per pack, I just need this crap from my skin. Did I mention that I’d like to talk now? I’m hungry again, no make that sleepy, no it’s definitely hungry. I’m sorry, are you a little irritated? Well allow me to look directly at you and insert the cutest smile. You’ve forgotten that you’re angry? Awesome, I’m hungry, no, sleepy, definitely sleepy; however, I shall not go there. Why, you ask? Well, let’s just call that reason Pink.


Pink is my sister, who can hit a Minnie Ripperton high note at will, while running full speed to bounce off the couch, trip over the dog and crash into the wall. But only after giving herself 4 new tattoos and a syrup/lotion combination pampering. Yes, actual syrup. And no matter how high in the pantry you put it, she can get it because she’s a spider monkey.


Back to life, back to reality – you sang that didn’t you? I’m sure that I’ve done this before because these are two of nine grandchildren we’re talking about; but I just can’t remember any of it, at least not like this. Emily, I tip my hat to you and offer you the jeweled tiara, because sweetie, this has been most educational. And while I’ve only done this from Friday to Saturday, I’m in great need of martinis and a spa day, at 5:15AM.


Good mothering is truly an act of love. It’s also not meant to be done alone. As mothers we tend to wait until we are thoroughly exhausted and about to crumble before we will allow someone to help us, let alone ask for it. Stop it mommies. Take care of yourselves too, maybe even first sometimes. As for me, I am going to get a little bit of sleep because soon, Pink will arise and it will be ON!

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