the smell of my desperation has become a stench

Next up, blood-thirsty bunnies

Marlo is officially down to two naps. For those of you who do not have children, that first sentence will mean nothing to you. For those of you who do, you probably just experienced an instinctual pain in your chest at the memory of what it means to plan your life around your baby’s sleep schedule. Or is that just me? I can’t be the only one who has run outside and verbally berated the garbage truck driver for disturbing a nap, THERE GOES THE REST OF MY DAY.

Garbage truck diver, snow plower, mail carrier… all have been informed at one time or another of Marlo’s sleep schedule. It goes like this: when Marlo’s asleep, no one is allowed to breathe. The end.

You don’t want that crazy, short-haired Southern lady who looks like an eight-year-old boy running out into the street in her bare feet. She may be liberal, but she’s related to people who own guns.

And just this week we’ve managed to manipulate her schedule so that she’s sleeping in until 6:30 AM. Do you have any idea how indulgent this feels, to sleep in so late? No, you don’t understand. It like we’re fifteen years old, and suddenly the prophet has declared that pre-marital sex is totally okay.

I guess I should say, that one time we slept in so late since our other child has decided that days now begin at 5 AM. Read that again: FIVE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING. You want to know why? Because she thinks a leprechaun is tapping on her window.

I cannot believe I just wrote that sentence.

I mean, I can understand a fear of spiders or earthquakes or rats that are big enough to eat your face off. But, little green dudes? If anything you want them at your party because they can hold their liquor. Also, don’t they all come with marshmallows?

And, I don’t remember ever talking to her about leprechauns, so I’m guessing this is one of those rotten things she picked up at school, like addition and subtraction. And what do you know, IT IS. Turns out one has been coming into their classroom and leaving notes in the days leading up to St. Patrick’s Day. And this afternoon when I told her teacher about this early-morning tapping leprechaun, she said with a gleam in her eye, “Oh yes, he’d be tapping, for sure. They’re cobblers, you know.”

HAHA! I’m laughing because, that is just so damn brilliant. They have to deal with our kids all day long, and oh no. Is your kid waking up early? How sad for you who get to send them AWAY ALL DAY. It’s like, if I’m going to blame the teacher for the leprechaun, she’s more than happy to break out her fifty-page, single-spaced document of quirks she’d like explained, thank you very much.

Well played, elementary school teachers. Well played.

Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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