CEREAL INSOMNIAC

a place for us to all cry together.

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This man is the father to my child. 🙈😂

[cerealinsomnia-blog]

It's probably been a year since my last post...

So I’ll update you on the new daily affirmations I say to Zach and update the things that have happened.

1. Should we take the ice cream away from the baby?

2. I bought Nike running shoes. (If you know me this is weird and unusual behavior. Who am I?! Sobs into hands like a suburban mom.)

3. & 4. Unchanged.

5. I bought an LL Bean vest.

6. You know the tile in the kitchen still needs to be done? (repeated approx. 15x daily)

7. Where is my phone?

8. Baby can you get me a glass of water, my wallet, some chocolate, socks, shoes, the nail file, etc etc?

9. Leave the pillow.

10. Go to the guest room.

Xo.

[cerealinsomnia-blog]

10 Questions for Zach on any given Thursday:

It starts early, like 7am early:

1. Should we take that jar of blackberry jam away from the baby? (Asked while baby is feeding himself spoonfuls and smearing it all over face and arms.)

2. Should I buy these overpriced Adidas Stan Smith shoes that are obvi not as well-made as the originals? Answer: no.)

3. Did you know Gavin Rossdale slept with his nanny?

4. What was Hunter’s birth weight? (Zach is a better mom than me.)

5. Does this vest look good on me? (Answer: yes.) (But I still didn’t buy it because I couldn’t bring myself to wear Patagonia. As I'm writing this, he's still insisting: THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH PATAGONIA.)

6. You know the chandelier in the living room still needs to be switched out? (This is asked roughly 15x daily.)

7. Where is my water bottle?

8. Baby, can you get me my water bottle/a cookie/glass of wine.

9. Why did you take my pillow? (Sobbing like a small child until pillow is returned.)

10. Can you try not to snore tonight? (As I lovingly try to smother him with aforementioned pillow.)

Nite nite.

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When you are stuck in car with napping child but thinking of mashed potatoes but cannot eat mashed potatoes because waking up napping child is bad idea because they get SO MEAN but you are starving.

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Typical Grocery List (of my life)

A typical grocery list of my life:

- Rainbow O’s

- Whole milk sippy cartons

- Why can’t I buy socks at the grocery store and where are all my socks?

- Oh, I should probably do laundry. LAUNDRY.

- Broccoli (does Hunter still like broccoli this week? I hope so.)

- A bottle of wine big enough for me to drown in.

- Cheesy poofs (don’t judge me, whatever I can get this kid to chew and swallow is fine with me.)

- Gluten free pop-tarts (not as delicious as the real stuff but with less icing and guilt and wheat.)

- A double tall soy latte to the face made by hot barista with tattoos (hope my husband doesn’t read this. It’s fine.)

- Garbage bags because we are always running out of garbage bags because children make SO MUCH GARBAGE.

- Beets. Golden beets. Drop it like it’s hot.

- An overpriced jug of organic whole milk in a GLASS bottle, thank you.

- ONE delicious cookie made with real butter and loaded with sugar and possibly frosting that I will chow down on in the car on the way home to avoid sharing with Hunter or Zach. 

- Other, not as exciting things.

- It’s past 8pm, GO TO SLEEP. You know toddler will wake up at 3:30am screaming. LAWD HELP ME.

Nite nite.

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It was a normal end to any other day, I was picking up Hunter from Montessori School when I ran into her. Who, you wonder? Well, I’ll tell you: BOTOX MOM. Botox Mom is that thing I try not to stare at directly in the face because, like Medusa, she is a mystical creature that can turn anyone to stone with just a glance of her inanimate face and icy cold heart. As Botox Mom tries to shove her way around me, I am desperately attempting to zip up a toddler into a coat (which, like, if you have kids, you know that it is the equivalent of trying to pin down a goat-snake-rhino). Suddenly, the umbrella she is holding in her claws, or hands - whatever, pops open LITERALLY A MILLIMETER AWAY FROM HUNTER’S EYEBALL with missing end caps and the spokes all exposed and I am trying to keep it cool, repressing my own Gorgon howl (that’s for you, literary kids), while her giant lips are all like: OH MY GAWWWWD I AM SOOOOO SORRY.  And she scampers off in her active wear, obviously in a hurry to get to her Barre class, or whatever the hell Botox Mom does when her slave-nanny is handling childcare for her, stealing the souls of men? #unsure

Lady, if you can afford botox - you can afford a new umbrella. #botoxthat

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This is what trying to get a toddler to eat looks like. You turn away for 1 second and you have Electrolyte Hot Dog Ham Broccoli Cheese Water. 😫

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2.4.16

What I remember about last night: I am in bed, covers pulled up to my chin. My husband is snoring away on the couch because he has some crazy-gross-strep-tonsilitis-mess happening in his throat. That’s when it happens. Hunter wakes up. It’s 3 a.m. and he is definitely not going back to sleep anytime soon. I pull him out of bed and he immediately begins running in circles on his playmats, while I sit there huddled under a blanket trying to shove rainbow-o’s into his mouth and offer him sips of chocolate milk. I reach for the remote, my savior, my darling, my everything, and hit the play button for Pee-Wee’s Christmas Special. At some point, probably around the time that Grace Jones starts singing “Little Drummer Boy,” I pass out clutching a handful of o’s, only to later wake up to find Hunter laying on top of me watching tv. I am a mattress, a pillow, a mother, a doormat. It’s fine. I finally convince the little bugger to go back to sleep around 5 a.m. on the condition (he demands) that it is in our bed (he can’t even speak yet, but he telepathically made this evident to me and at 5 a.m. I was too weak to fight it). We enjoyed a beautiful two hours until he woke up again at 7 a.m. screaming in my ear and flinging himself off the side of the bed in an attempt at toddler suicide. I stopped him. With one hand. Obviously. Because I’m a mom and that’s what we do.  #rollhard