battle royale

Out of nowhere, Luke won't go to sleep anywhere but my bed.  Also, he won't stay in bed until I've threatened forcing him to sleep in his own bed for like an hour.  This means that I'm staying up too late to not actually have alone time, getting super shitty sleep and now must arm myself before awaking the beast that is a super tired toddler every single morning.

My life is in shambles.

 

The destruction this storm has laid to my life is vast; The Rocky Mountains of laundry to fold, a dirty dish stack that resembles the Leaning Tower of Piza, old food containers so full of life that they're trying to escape the fridge and a million episodes of unwatched television begging me to take a day off of work to view them.  These are all after-kid-goes-to-bed-so-I-can-get-drunk-without-guilt activities, and that time no longer exists in my world.

 

He's gotten so used to sleeping in my bed that he called it HIS bed the other day.  I admit it, totally saw red for a minute.  He has stolen my sanctuary and evening regaining of sanity with no remorse.  What's a mom to do?!

 

Well, I'll tell you what I'm doing... I'm buying him a fucking bed.  My kid, who is barely three feet tall and still hovers around 30 lbs, will be the owner of a new full size mattress and boxspring set mid-next month... on which I will spend the money I allotted to replace my own decade-old set.

 

You may have won this time, sweet child of mine, but only because I'd like to have people over without begging their forgiveness for subjecting them to the squalor in which we currently live.  Parenthood.  Gah!