Get lost, Sun, and take your rays that sear my bloodshot eyes.

Come back in two hours, when I’m ready for your rise.

Shut up, birds. Be quiet! Stop that perky song.

Don’t you know that I have babies who woke me all night long?

Alarm clock, if you have the will to live, do not bother me.

For if your beeping dares pierce my ear drums, broken you will be.

Husband dear, I love you, but keep your distance, friend.

Your persistence in nudging me awake, may surely mean your end.

Sounds of energetic feet echo loudly in the hallway.

But I’m not prepared to leave these sheets and start another day.

My night shift was a double and seemed to have no end.

Crying, bad dreams, teething, all endless needs to tend.

Sleep, you have eluded me, for the fifth night in a row.

Rest, you have betrayed me. Your face I no longer know.

The only one who accompanies me through long and taxing nights,

Is my dreaded foe, Exhaustion, who afflicts, taunts and smites.

Isn’t there some other mom, who has the luxury of sleep?

Can’t you pick on her for now, so I can count some sheep?

Two hours is not a lot to ask to mend my mental state.

If you do me this small favor, I’ll let you stay up late.

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Under the For Sale section:

FREE TO GOOD HOME: Baby. Eight Months. Cute. Likes: pulling on dog tails, picking outlet covers off electrical sockets, waking every two hours at night, twenty minute naps, screaming in public, practicing a new whining technique that involves a high-pitched squeal/ear-drum-shattering dolphin noise, throwing entire body down on the ground when a bottle is not supplied fast enough, shaking head back and forth in a disagreeable fashion. Dislikes: sleeping, behaving, not screaming, not being held, being tickled, singing and other humans.

Under the Wanted section:

WANTED: Baby from last week. Baby who cuddled, laughed, played and generally did not scream whenever not being held. Baby who slept twelve hours at night and took two hour-and-a-half naps. Baby who was described by a stranger at Target as having a “sweet disposition.” May have also been called “a happy little guy.”

Ugh.

Can you tell I’m in the middle of four-teeth-coming-in-all-at-once-because-God-hates-me hell?

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