While most of the time spent here on this ship of fools is devoted to: elaborate fart jokes, cheap leering, junk food and whoopie cushions, we must never lose sight that this was and will always be my personal blog. As the mother of Angry Baby, every so often I share the personal humiliations of being a parent.
I now invite all of you to pull up a hobo milk crate, desk chair, or hairy gentleman lover, and gather ’round to read up about my real life strifes. Happy Schadenfreudin‘!
Monkey See Monkey Snore
I have been a snorer since birth. Maybe my sinuses are f*cked up, or perhaps I’m a reincarnated buzz saw. Whatever the reason, Crib Keeper be a snoring fool. Through the years, friends, family and L4L have all adjusted to my nighttime earth-shaking shenanigans. Matter of fact, save for a particularly loud patch during my third trimester, I’d completely forgotten that I snored.
Luckily, motherhood has been the ultimate ego check. Those of you non-parents out there AKA people who get glorious uninterrupted sleep, know this one hard and simple fact of procreation: Kids are the universe’s way of removing all of your previous cool points. Don’t believe me? Consider this: before I had Angry Baby, I would have lopped my fingers off with a hedge clipper before I’d type the term, “cool points. Oh how the mighty have fallen! Fun Fact: as I type this I’m sitting in comfortable slacks, tucking chapstick into my fanny pack. I’m a MOM Y’all!
As I was saying, I’m a snoring snorer who loves to saw logz, that until this past week had almost forgotten this was the case. Oh sure, Lover fo’ Life will occasionally stare daggers at me over his bowl of corn flakes in the morning, but for the most part, It’s a non-issue. All that changed last week.
Angry Baby loves to play with her stuffed animals and babies. As she’s now 22 months old (AKA almost two,) her play is more thoughtful, deliberate, and creative by the day. Where “playing” used to consist of her whacking a toy against the hard floor, or gumming a poor stuffed plaything to death, it now involves actual play. Especially with her dolls.
Angry Baby has a baby doll that she loves dearly. “Baby” is her name and she’s never far from Angry Baby’s side, be it covered in piles of strawberries or floating face-down in the pool, “Baby” is always down to party.
A month ago, I noticed AB feeding “Baby,” a tiny baby bottle, while she was feeding the doll she gently cradled it just as I first did almost 2 years ago. Real Talk: I was overcome with emotion. Watching a baby who happens to be YOUR baby feed a tiny little baby doll named “Baby” is right up there on the adorability scale with kittens giving backrubs to puppies. As the month progressed, she started laying the doll down to sleep complete with covering “Baby” in a blanket.
Last Monday, I noticed something new. When Angry Baby would put her stuffed animals, including “Baby,” to sleep, she also made a noise with her mouth that replicated white noise. Actually, it sounded just like this! I thought it was odd, but went along with my business. AB continued to make the sound, any time she laid a doll down for sleep. The wheels began turning in my brainmeat.
Friday she was playing with “Baby” on the guest bed, when she started making the sound. I made eye-contact with her and she began laughing hysterically. As the maniacal cackle of an adorable toddler flooded my ears, I had an epiphany…”This kid is making the doll snore.”
I decided to test my theory, and crawled on the bed with her. I picked up “Baby.”
“Ok Valor, I think it’s time we put Baby down for a nap.”
She replied with an excited, “OK, Oh-KAY!”
I lavishly laid the doll down and slowly covered it. On cue, my little white noise maker chimed in with her sound. Just as I suspected, Angry Baby was making “Baby” snore.
Ever the scientist, I conducted one more test. I grabbed a pillow, covered up, closed my eyes and replicated her white noise sound.
In a flash, the child went berserk. Homegirl freaked the hail out: “No! No! Noooooooooo! Mommy up! Up! Up!” She shook me and removed the blanket. I got up, and pondered the evidence.
For the first 18 months of her life, Angry Baby slept right across the tiny hall from us in our tiny house. For a year and a half she was serenaded with my hearty slumber grumbles, and now she’s finally able to demonstrate what she perceives as normal thanks to my nighttime soundtrack.
Thankfully, we’ve moved and the new house has Angry Baby removed from my nightly aural assault, but methinks the damage is done. You can’t un-ring a “Baby” snoring bell.
Yesterday she made “Baby” snore at the grocery store, I would have found it adorable had I not been in a crowd of sassy memaws waiting for roasted Hatch Chiles.
Sassy Granny #1″Oh look at that sweet little baby girl, she’s making her dolly snore!”
Sassy Granny #2 “Did you pick that up from your daddy, little sweetie!?”
Angry Baby: “No…”
Before she could incriminate me further, I ditched the Hatch Chile patch of Nosey Nanas. Ah the Karma-kicking joys of raising Angry Baby!
Just when you’re drunk enough to think you’ve got it all figured out in life, Parenthood comes along and exposes your folly and failure through the unvarnished and perceptive eyes of youth.