Here’s Why Parenting is so Exhausting

Let’s play a numbers game, shall we?

The baby woke me up four times last night. Four times! Well, technically he woke me up six, but I had my husband care for him twice. My son is almost eight months old. He’s never had a night with less than two feedings, so that’s about 240 nights without a full night’s sleep. And since I’ve been alive 13,749 days so far, that means about 2% of my life has been in a sleepless stupor since having this baby. (I’m not going to bother counting my first born, who didn’t start sleeping through the night until 15 months and I’ve pretty much blocked the whole experience out at this point.

I’m tired.

I’m damn tired.

I don’t feel human these days. I feel kind of drunk. And not the fun drunk, but the “Imma bout to pass out… oh shizzzz” drunk that you know is going to hurt really bad the next day.

I tell my family I’m tired, and they smile at me and look with those eyes like, “I told you so.” I tell my friends I’m tired, and they say I look great and it doesn’t show. And I don’t tell my boss I’m tired. 1) I don’t think he really cares all that much, and 2) No, I’m sure he doesn’t care at all.

But the sun comes up in the morning same as it always has. My kids rise at 6 a.m. like little roosters ready to start the day. I wake up delirious and weak and defeated by another night of restlessness. And the day goes on. The work remains, the chores remain, the responsibility remains.

If this was college, I would have called in sick for a couple of semesters by now. “You’re drunk, Celeste. Go home.”

But I can’t take a sick day. I’m a parent. Parents don’t take sick days. Parents don’t take days, period. The other day I caught myself thinking, “I just need a few days to rejuvenate. A few days to get back on track.” Where the heck did I plan to go? A spa retreat? A mountain outing?

Parents don’t take days.

And this is why parenting is so exhausting. It’s not the kids. It’s not the tantrums. It’s not the terror every time they scream, “Hey, ma! Look at me!” as they jump off a rock wall. Or when the baby’s face turns blue as you’re feeding him and it looks like he’s stopped breathing and your heart stops beating for a second until you realize everything’s fine. It’s not the massive expenses that pile up with daycare and soccer lessons and car seat prices and the looming realization that you’re supposed to start saving for college NOW, not in five years, not in high school…

It’s all of it, ALL OF IT. And without the sleep.

Sleep. Oh, even writing that word makes me feel relaxed and sleepy. Is that not the best word in the English language? Not getting the sleep we need leads people to depression, occasionally suicide. It’s been used as a form of torture for centuries (I think, but I don’t have a source on this… Seriously, I’m too tired to look it up so let’s just go with it).

So if you’re wondering where I’ve been lately. Or if you’re wondering why I’ve been such a bitch. Or a bad friend. Or a terrible driver. Or a lame coworker. Here’s your answer.

Parenting is exhausting.

Somebody wake me when this phase is over. I’m taking a sick day.