Return of the Riot: Part One
Wow. Yeah. So this is a little awkward.
It's been a while.
How have you, uh, been?
I've been thinking of you, reader. I really have. But things took sort of a turn.
See, when I started this blog, my darling baby daughter was on a beautiful sleeping streak. Which meant I was sleeping fairly decently, too. I woke up feeling pretty good. Most nights I was even assured a glass of wine, a leisurely dinner with my beloved, and most importantly to you - time to write. But then things got hairy.
Sleeping Beauty left the building. In other words, the Bunni's periods of sleep got shorter and shorter, until she was sleeping only two hours at a stretch. Factor in that after picking her up, nursing her, and waiting for her to fall asleep beside me, one hour later I was up again to put her back in her crib. Then an hour later - "Hey Mom! I'm awake! Here I am! Feed me, already!"
Multiply that little scenario by 4 or five times each night and you can imagine how I felt come morning.
Now, I never intended for this to be a blog about being a mom. There are other writers out there doing a bang-up job of that already (see JJ, mama::millieu, Willow and Sweet Jane, to name just a few). But somewhere in the last month or two, the mom part of my life unceremoniously swallowed everything else whole.
I was wrecked. Even after two whole weeks up north with my family - where Mr. Sybarite and I were spoiled for help with the Bunni girl - I felt like I was drowning. I just didn't have the energy to do anything but hang on.
In all honesty readers, I didn't want to write about that (this is supposed to be about joy, after all). Even if I could have. Which I couldn't.
To illustrate just how desperate I was, I'll reveal something pretty private (which, for someone who blogs, I'm surprisingly reluctant to do).
I started praying.
Me, the lapsed Bible Bunny, who had something of a falling out with the Powers That Be about a decade or two ago. But I didn't know what else to do.
Here's a re-enactment of a typical prayer last week, around 3:30 am, in the pitch dark of my sister's guest room, with a writhing bundle of non-sleeping Bunni in my arms:
Hi, God.
Its me.
Wow. Yeah. So this is a little awkward.
It's been a while.
How have you, uh, been? I know - its been a long time. And I know you've got a lot on your plate. I hate to bug you, especially when there are women and girls being brutalized in the Congo, with global warming wiping out subsistence farmers in the third world, with Americans losing their jobs, falling into foreclosure and bankruptcy because they can't afford basic health care. But if you could just see to it that this babygirl will actually stay asleep when I lay her down this time, and not pop up and open her eyes like the last 4 times I tried to put her down - I'd be really, really grateful. Because I'm pretty tired down here.
Um, thank you.
You know what's crazy? Most times these prayer-things I wove together out of limp strands of depseration and exhaustion, scraggily anxiety and hope, and a fair amount of sheepishness - they actually worked.
But I hear La Bu stirring in the nursery, which means Mama Syb is back on duty, which means, dear reader, I must sign off for the time being. Just to ensure my return (and to entice yours, too) I'm serializing. A little something to look forward to, if you will.
Next installment: the bubble bursts.
And hey, thanks for sticking around.
It's been a while.
How have you, uh, been?
I've been thinking of you, reader. I really have. But things took sort of a turn.
See, when I started this blog, my darling baby daughter was on a beautiful sleeping streak. Which meant I was sleeping fairly decently, too. I woke up feeling pretty good. Most nights I was even assured a glass of wine, a leisurely dinner with my beloved, and most importantly to you - time to write. But then things got hairy.
Sleeping Beauty left the building. In other words, the Bunni's periods of sleep got shorter and shorter, until she was sleeping only two hours at a stretch. Factor in that after picking her up, nursing her, and waiting for her to fall asleep beside me, one hour later I was up again to put her back in her crib. Then an hour later - "Hey Mom! I'm awake! Here I am! Feed me, already!"
Multiply that little scenario by 4 or five times each night and you can imagine how I felt come morning.
Now, I never intended for this to be a blog about being a mom. There are other writers out there doing a bang-up job of that already (see JJ, mama::millieu, Willow and Sweet Jane, to name just a few). But somewhere in the last month or two, the mom part of my life unceremoniously swallowed everything else whole.
I was wrecked. Even after two whole weeks up north with my family - where Mr. Sybarite and I were spoiled for help with the Bunni girl - I felt like I was drowning. I just didn't have the energy to do anything but hang on.
In all honesty readers, I didn't want to write about that (this is supposed to be about joy, after all). Even if I could have. Which I couldn't.
To illustrate just how desperate I was, I'll reveal something pretty private (which, for someone who blogs, I'm surprisingly reluctant to do).
I started praying.
Me, the lapsed Bible Bunny, who had something of a falling out with the Powers That Be about a decade or two ago. But I didn't know what else to do.
Here's a re-enactment of a typical prayer last week, around 3:30 am, in the pitch dark of my sister's guest room, with a writhing bundle of non-sleeping Bunni in my arms:
Hi, God.
Its me.
Wow. Yeah. So this is a little awkward.
It's been a while.
How have you, uh, been? I know - its been a long time. And I know you've got a lot on your plate. I hate to bug you, especially when there are women and girls being brutalized in the Congo, with global warming wiping out subsistence farmers in the third world, with Americans losing their jobs, falling into foreclosure and bankruptcy because they can't afford basic health care. But if you could just see to it that this babygirl will actually stay asleep when I lay her down this time, and not pop up and open her eyes like the last 4 times I tried to put her down - I'd be really, really grateful. Because I'm pretty tired down here.
Um, thank you.
You know what's crazy? Most times these prayer-things I wove together out of limp strands of depseration and exhaustion, scraggily anxiety and hope, and a fair amount of sheepishness - they actually worked.
But I hear La Bu stirring in the nursery, which means Mama Syb is back on duty, which means, dear reader, I must sign off for the time being. Just to ensure my return (and to entice yours, too) I'm serializing. A little something to look forward to, if you will.
Next installment: the bubble bursts.
And hey, thanks for sticking around.
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