The other night I woke up at my usual time (3 AM), and instead of forcing myself to lay in bed until I fell asleep again, I got up. I got up so I could read. I got up so I could journal. I got up because it’s the only time that Maverick is doing something where I don’t have to distract him, sleeping. But not this night. No, not this night. This night, Maverick had some major case of FOMO and decided he wanted to be WIDE AWAKE at 3 AM with mommy.
I lost my cool. I tried to feed him back to sleep and he wouldn’t even shut his eyes. “JUST GO TO SLEEP” I said sternly, as I shuffled him around my body to get him to go to sleep. Yelling at the baby wouldn’t make him go to sleep, I knew that… But I was frustrated. I get up at ungodly hours (literally the witching hour) to do stuff on my own, and I can’t even get that!
I was tired of being touched. I was tired of laying down doing nothing when Maverick was asleep. I was tired of being a parent. So I did the only thing I knew to do in that time, and that was cry. Cry until Sean woke up and took Maverick away from me. Cry until I felt better and calmed down. Cried until I realized Maverick didn’t have any sense in why I was crying…
Sometimes I don’t want to be a mom because it’s the hardest thing I’ve had to do. But that doesn’t mean I can just delete my son out of my life (like some people), and just pretend like every thing is peachy keen. I get up and love him because that’s what he needs from me. I love him cause he doesn’t know better. And even though this shit is ROUGH - I’ll always be here for him because I WANTED him. He owes me nothing because he is MY SON. And it’s my job to take care of him. That’s my baby.
But seriously… some alone time as being JAKKI is nice too, not just a shower by myself and calling it self care.