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How you know you’re tired

People.  I have officially reached a new level of exhaustion/sleep deprivation/notawesome.

This morning I FORGOT TO BATHE.

I’m not even kidding.


How does that even HAPPEN?

I’ll tell you.

Your child wakes up ANGRY SCREAMING at 4:00 a.m. You stumble out of bed to go see what sort of monster or kidnapper or baby eating crib he MUST be fighting with only to find him standing up in his crib holding on to the side and sort of yell-jumping at the door.  (Yell jumping is when he’s yelling and sort of jumping up at me.)

You pick him up only to have him brace his arms against your shoulders and yell IN YOUR FACE.  Finally, you get him settled down.  Only, when you put him back in the crib, he decides he’s all angry again and you stumble back to the bed, tripping over the laundry in the hallway (because your Sunday productivity only went so far) and then you tag in the other parent.  Who gets up and stumbles to the kitchen to get some milk and then gives said milk to said toddler only to tag you back in when said milk has been consumed.

And then you…oh, forget this “you” nonsense. I spend half my time trying to eradicate the use of “you” from my students’ writing and here I am getting all hypothetical on y’all when this is not even remotely hypothetical.


So, by the time Dan tagged me back in, it was 5:00.  I should’ve done what any reasonable person would’ve done.

Not fallen asleep in the nursery chair with Joshua.

But that’s totally what I did.  I dozed in a most uncomfortable position (the back of my head went to sleep.  Yes, I’m serious.) until Dan opened the door to…wake me, I guess.

So I tried to gently place Joshua back in the crib, only he’d been sitting funny and his blanket was all tangled up in my pajamas so he sort of got unceremoniously plopped into his crib. And he woke up. Of course.

I stumbled to the shower to start the day, having only gotten about a half hour of actual sleep in the past two hours.  I started my normal shower routine–hair, face, shave, bathe, rinse hair, the end.

I did hair, face, shave, rinse hair, and then turned off the water and grabbed my towel and then I was all “Huh…that’s weird.  Something feels weird this morning.  Wonder what it could possibly be…”

And I got out of the shower and dried off and went into the bedroom where it hit me.

I had forgotten to lather up and scrub myself.  Completely and totally forgot.

Oh, wait. WAIT.  The morning gets better.


Yes.  I’m totally serious.

You see, my darling child has this habit of opening and closing doors.  Most of the time, the doors don’t actually close all the way.  Occasionally, however, they do.

(I’d actually lamented to Dan while I was getting dressed and Joshua was opening and closing the door that is RIGHT.BEHIND.MY.SINK that I cannot stand when he does that.  I know, I know. How ridiculous is it that I’m annoyed by a 17 month old opening and closing a door?

I. KNOW. It’s ridiculous.

But it annoys me.) 

Turns out, my annoyance is for good reason.

The knob on Joshua’s door has a push-button lock.  I was in the laundry room flipping a load of clothes from the washer to the dryer so I wouldn’t forget about them and stink up the house.

(Yes, I know. It’s awful and disgusting and none of you will ever want to visit me now. Don’t say you’ve never done it.  Did you miss the fact that I was doing laundry at approximately 6:50 a.m.??)

He went into his room and started playing the open and shut game with the bedroom door.  Then he shut the door all the way.  Then I tried to open the door only to discover that in his attempt to either open the door with the knob or close the door with the knob, he’d LOCKED HIMSELF IN.

Dan to the rescue!  Woot!  He grabbed some tools and a barbecue glove (?) from the kitchen to spring our little jailbird.

The irony of this locking himself in thing?

One day, he’s going to WANT to lock himself in. And that’s about when I’ll probably be ready to take the door completely off its hinges.

Oy. Stupid McFatty Monday.  I need wine.

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