Ok look. I get it. It’s probably not the badge you aspire to pin on your vomit-smeared top, but dammit, you’ve earnt it mumma. Wear it with sleep-deprived pride and remember – there are millions of mums around the world wearing it with you. You have an entire squad of parents feeling your pain – and while this does not magically create more sleep for you, it does mean that you are not alone.
1. Most mornings begin with a lovely lie-in, and a soft beam of sunlight dancing through your curtains, gently caressing your face.
Jokes. Most mornings begin before the sun even rises. You stagger out of bed and make a beeline for the kettle. Your eyes have barely opened, yet three tablespoons of instant coffee have made it straight into your favourite cat mug. When you realise you’ve run out of milk you don’t cry, you sob. Loudly. This is not pretty crying – this is loud, ugly-face crying. As you sob, you drink your coffee sans milk. And you force yourself to enjoy it dammit. Ok. You got me. I lied. Most mornings begin with a nappy change, squirming baby, a couple of near-death experiences involving said baby and the change table, and heaps of yelling. Then the coffee and crying.
2. You drink instant coffee.
Shitloads of instant coffee.
3. You try to unlock your car by swiping your iPhone unlocked.
And then wonder why the door won’t open. Stupid car.
4. When you finally figure it out, you swing the stupid car door open to be greeted with this lovely sight:
Instead of throwing the cups away, you wonder if there is coffee left in any of them. After all, those coffees had milk in them…
5. You can’t sleep.
Weird ha? The fact is, you are so bloody good at waking through the night that, when your baby does sleep through on the odd occasion, you simply cannot switch off and enjoy the same luxury. It’s definitely got nothing to do with all the caffeine you’re drinking either.
Do you have a secret favourite child? We do. Post continues after video...
6. It’s been agggeeeessss since you’ve had a pedicure.
Oh my darling piggies. How I’ve neglected you.
7. You leave a variety of objects on the roof of your car.
It’s such a handy storage solution for when you are wrestling your annoying child gently placing your bundle of joy into their car seat - and then drive off. Sometimes these objects survive. Sometimes they don’t. Your baby’s favourite comforter and that non-instant coffee you excitedly purchased – these will never see the light of day again. But that $1.70 in change – thank GOD that survived. You’ll definitely need that to purchase half a nappy.
8. When you and your partner discussed having your first child it was a joyous conversation, oozing with positivity.
An example might be, “Omg! Sooooo excited to see what we make! Do you think we’ll end up with a boy or girl? Let’s keep it a surprise and come up with 27 boys’ names and 33 girls’ name just in case!”
Discussions around the second child are governed by cold hard realism. For example, the other night my husband, so exhausted he was on the brink of tears, said to me,
“Let’s get this shit over with.”
9. This week’s shopping list looks like this:
Ok this could go one of two ways: either you’re realllllyyy tired or you realllllyyy like sour cream…
10. You’re tired.
Yep this last one seems obvious, but I need to talk about it a little more. I’m not done. This tiredness is next level shit. It’s like going on a three-day bender and sleeping a combined total of 5 hours, but with no prospect of one of those mega 12 hour sleeping marathons to make up for it all. It’s the kind of tiredness that transforms you from a happy, active, member of society, to an immobile lump of flesh. Today I watched my daughter lick a patch of our slate floor for a good 15 minutes. Actually, she wasn’t licking it. She was giving that tile a good ol’ French Kiss. Moving her head from side-to-side. Giving it her all. She doesn’t do things by halves this girl. I literally could not get off the couch to make her stop, let alone deal with the tanty I was certain would come if I did. My body felt like a bag of lead. To lift an arm alone would have required the strength of 1000 Channing Tatums. So I weakly kept repeating “No Emilia…” And she kept giving me her trademark goofy grin, oblivious to the saliva and snot decorating her face.
What are some other signs you're a sleep deprived mum?