As a recruit to parental boot camp, I'm finding my drill sergeant to be a little harsh. She doesn't care about trite distinctions such as "daytime" or "nighttime". In fact, the hours between 1:00 and 4:30 a.m. are our most intense.
Hmmm. Perhaps I DO need to rename this blog.
She plays mind games with me – here’s what last night's scene looked like.
Setting: A darkened house with one light on in the front bedroom. Baby Barracuda is red-faced, and screaming at New Mommy.
Baby Barracuda: Guess why I’m crying?
New Mommy: You’re hungry?
Baby Barracuda: WRONG!
New Mommy: You’re wet?
Baby Barracuda (after New Mommy navigates the obstacle course of the snaps on her sleepers): WRONG!
New Mommy: You’re sleepy?
Baby Barracuda: WRONG, WRONG, WRONG! I am hungry, you clueless grunt.
New Mommy: But… but you said you weren’t hungry before. Plus, you just ate an hour ago. Are you sure you’re hungry?
Baby Barracuda: FEED ME NOW!!
So far, I’ve been assigned to diaper duty and mess hall. Luckily, fellow recruits include my husband and parents. We make a great team, although they seem to have avoided mess hall. My parents ship out for R&R in another week and a half, so I’m enjoying the camaraderie while it lasts.
Gotta run – she’s calling again.