I got 10 hours of sleep last night. Granted it wasn’t straight through but still. I had a hard night of eating apple crisp with vanilla ice cream and watching “Charlie Brown Christmas” on tv… or Snoopy! as Sofia calls it. I had to follow that up with a good chunk of sleep. Right? And it still didn’t feel like enough. I spent the majority of the morning being cranky that I didn’t get as much sleep as I wanted.
There are people I know, mother’s out there, who bake things from scratch, cook wholesome meals and read to their kids. They volunteer, run the house, work outside of the home, get only 5 hours of sleep on a good night, and survive. You know who you are. They are even pleasant to be around, most of the time. Last night I had visions of cooking a complete meal, from salad to curry to dessert. In my mind t was to happen effortlessly and peacefully. It didn’t happen that way. Sofia is nursing an ear infection, and is clingy and wanted her own pan to mix things in. Ajay was hanging around testing the curry and playing with (bugging) Sofia. The salad didn’t happen, the curry over-curried and the crisp never really crisped. By the time dinner was over I was ushering Sofia out of the kitchen with promises of Dora or Diego so I could clean up the mess that the kitchen exploding made. That is how it usually happens. I need to get something done so the tv goes on. Not good, I know. And I find excuses. Last night’s was that Sofia was sick so needed to rest. Before it was that we were all jet-lagged. I always default to the television. Even when I don’t have a lot to do, just want to take a break and put up my feet, the tv always goes on.
These mothers I know don’t do that. They are the ones that say “I could make that” and “it really is no bother”. They are the ones that had four kids by the time they were my age, one of them in junior high, and never went crazy. I go nuts with the one I have, and she is still in diapers! They are the ones that have three under the age of 5 and can get it all done, with the television off. They don’t think me, they think they. I think me. They would just say “well just don’t turn it on” and I would say “that just doesn’t compute”. I try not to compare or contrast because no one wins that game, and I try not to worry that Sofia is dreaming of Diego at night, yelling “pull, Pull, PULL!”, trying to get the llama up the hill.
I just want to know what their secret is. Is it a piece of their DNA that they were born with? Do they have secret meetings where they chant mantras of recipes, crafts, and bedtime stories? Whatever it is, they should package that secret, they could retire and I would put it at the top of my christmas wish list.