First of all, I would like to thank everyone who delurked or made a comment on my last post.  It was very cool of you all to share the love and I got to discover some new blogs!  Woo hoo!  And thanks for your patience, I’m pretty sure my brain is back (or at least a close approximation of a brain).

I also wanted to mention that there are new updates for The Things They Don’t Tell You in Lamaze list.  Thanks to all who submitted new entries!  Check it out.  And guys, please don’t be shy, I know some of you menfolk aren’t feeling it because of… ahem… physical discrepancies between the sexes BUT! seriously, the list is an equal-opportunity parenting vent-fest.  I’d love to hear some from the fellas, too.

Alrighty then.  I’ll resume the post I couldn’t finish on Thursday.

One thing has become blindingly clear over the last few months (but especially as we start to move into this toddler stage) I have definitely identified my Worst Parenting Time.  Or what I call WPT; as in, “I’m having an episode of WPT”.  My Worst Parenting Time is not, as you might expect, a particularly bad incident or an extra-frustrating day – no singular event where I proved to all concerned (i.e. me and the cats) that I’m a horrible, no good, very bad mommy.  No, it’s mornings.  Just… mornings.  (Man, even writing the word makes me a little tired.)  Mornings are rough on me every day, always have been rough actually, and have become my WPT.  Now it’s not like I think I’m a total monster of a parent at this time, snarling and tossing oatmeal every which way, making my son wear sissy clothes against his will, refusing to play peek-a-boo.  But I’ve never been a morning person.  It takes me a couple of hours and copious amounts of tea to really wake up and that’s on a good day.  And as a parent mornings are the period of the day where I can’t quite seem to keep up!  It is the most likely time I’ll catch myself wishing wistfully that I was back in bed (or maybe at a spa on a tropical beach) rather than having to wrassle a wiggling kid away from the catfood bowl for the tenth time or blocking his access to the DSL hub that he is so fascinated with (ooh, the lights) or trying to beat him to a doorway when he sees me pick up a babygate.  He is refreshed enough most mornings, with glee and giggles, to decide to test the word “no” at every opportunity.  His exuberance, his joy, his growing mental awareness and acuity, these are things I would normally revel in… but first thing in the morning, usually without any help yet from caffeine, I kind of wish they would be outlawed.   

I know, I know!  Bad mommy!  What about the baby smiles?  What about the morning snuggles? Why would you want to miss anything?  These things are great, don’t get me wrong.  But the proportion of energy my son has in the mornings compared to the energy my sorry old butt has… well, let’s just say if someone invented a caffeine IV/alarm clock I would be first in line to buy it.            – the weirdgirl

*This message brought to you by the Council for Awake and Safe Parenting – a joint committee of StarSmucks Coffee & CautionFirst Baby Products.  (Caffeinomatic Baby Monitor coming soon to a store near you.)