That last post I wrote? Right down there, just below this one, about the baby sleeping through the night? I take that back. I should never have written it. Because, you know, you write something like that – hey, look everybody, my baby is sleeping!!! – and it’s like waving a big red flag at the gods and yelling yoo hoo, gods, lookie here! SMITE ME! Or, in this case: yoo hoo, gods! My baby is sleeping! Maybe you’d like to wake him up! For fun!
They’re complicated beings, the gods. They don’t like it when mere mortals get all triumphant and chortle-y about silly accomplishments like getting babies to sleep. They see you pumping your fist in the air and they aim a lightning bolt right at you. I should have known this. I’ve had a lightening bolt hit me in the ass more than a few times. I should know better.
So I take it all back. I should never have said it in the first place. And now the baby is, indeed, again, not sleeping, and I will very shortly lose my mind. And the gods, I’m sure, will be laughing.
(For evidence of my losing my mind, see today’s Mamapop rant, written in an haze of unhinged temper in the dark hours before the dawn this morning as the baby sniffled and sneezed and performed backflips in the bed beside me.)
(I’m turning off comments again so that I can – free from the temptation to check my e-mail repeatedly in an effort to reassure myself that, yes, everybody does care about my minor quarrels with the gods – sleep all day while the husband takes the baby. Do, however, feel free to discuss sex and the condition of modern motherhood over at Mamapop. )
(Oh, and, also, the Basement.)