This weekend, I had my baby all by myself. Now, to some of you this may sound absolutely ridiculous, like “what’s the big friggin’ deal you’re watching your kid by yourself, but honestly, I nearly died. Well, that’s a little dramatic. It was very, VERY hard. Am I doing something wrong?
First Time Alone
With the husband in Las Vegas for the weekend on a so-called, uhum, “company retreat,” I was excited to get to spend the entire weekend with my daughter — the one that takes naps everyday at 9, 1 and 4. The baby that kicks her feet when I get home from work and says mama, the one who for the most part, has been a super easy baby. All this went out the window when her dad went to Vegas and this baby suddenly rebelled against all the “rules.” And let me tell you, I was so exhausted after just ONE day, I had to crack open a bottle of champagne at about 3 o’clock to relax and feel like I was having somewhat of a weekend. All this, while my husband was doing God knows what (ever seen the movie “Hangover”?). My imagination was running wild that while I was trying to handle a fussy (and that’s putting it very nicely) baby, he was off drinking martinis, gambling at receiving a lap dance.
Bed Time? Not…
I kid you not, the child went from going to bed in two seconds, to standing at the railing of her crib for over an hour — crying, saying “mamamamama.” I am not exaggerating, when I tell you that she has never climbed on the bumpers of her bed before, yet this weekend she turned into a little monkey, climbing and falling and hitting her head on the planks of the crib, then doing it again — about fifty times. When I took her out on a stroll, she fussed, she cried, she screamed, she squirmed. What the hell happened to my baby?
I Had NO Idea!
My husband texted me at 2:30 am on Saturday night saying he got “home safe.” Uhuh, I bet you did. I was still up, not sleeping because I was scared someone would come into the house. I didn’t realize I would be so afraid without him. I put both of the strollers in front of the front door so that if someone were to try to get in, I’d hear it. Not that they would come in through the front door if they were breaking in…Needless to say, I got zero sleep. Especially since my baby was up at 5 crying at the railing again. Oy.
At 6 am I called him and left a message “Oh. My. God. I don’t know how single parents do this – I am terrible at this by myself! She seriously turned into a different baby, you have no idea.” Complain, complain, complain, complain…All I did was complain. Did I already say how much I now respect single parents — I am bowing as I write…
He Comes Home
“Ha! Just wait until you put her down tonight, she is going to give you so much s$#t!” I tell him as he walks into the house Sunday night. Tonight, I am going to bed and he is doing the night feeding, I don’t care how hungover he is! I bathe her, give her a bottle and hand her over to him, his blood shot eyes and all, and I’m secretly giggling inside. He has no idea…I climb into bed at 8pm, just as he’s putting her down to sleep. He doesn’t sing her five lullabies (as I did), he doesn’t read her three books, he barely says “night night.” He just puts her in her crib and that’s it. Two minutes later she’s out.
He peeks his head inside our bedroom and says: “What are you talking about honey? she went right to sleep! Maybe you didn’t put her down at the right time this weekend.” I’m too tired to respond. I roll over and go to sleep. I’m glad he’s home, that’s all. And I’ll never underestimate the value of having someone to help again!