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I’m there right now. The dark side. A place filled with anxiety and guilt. It’s fueled by extreme lack of sleep. Side effects include covered in lies Twitter whines and ugly crying. It’s a yucky place. I hate this place. So I’m writing this to help claw my way out.

Some facts. Addison has a fever. Courtland is teething and congested and generally out of sorts. James is working 60 plus hours a week because on top of his part time work for the College, he reads for Admissions and he’s got a towering stack of files that he’s been tackling before our departure for New Orleans tomorrow morning. (Those files are not exactly travel friendly. Nor is it advisable to travel with Admissions files for other obvious reasons).

And, I, well I’m still adjusting to working full time while interrupting my day to breastfeed. And I’ve been on kid duty in the evenings so that James can get his reading done.

We are crazy with sleep deprivation. Cray-cray. Living in crazy town. What other obnoxious, hip slang can I use to describe this state of affairs? Oh yeah, bat shit. To the max.

Last night was the worst night we’ve had in a while. At some point during the evening, James and I each managed to sleep in the three different beds this house has to offer. Separately, of course. At 3:30am I found myself curled up alone on Addison’s 4ft toddler bed sobbing into The Sleep Sheep because I couldn’t get the baby to stop crying, Sunny was fitfully thrashing with fever in our bed with James, and I was on the verge of loosing my mind. I may or may not have yelled at the baby to JUST SHUT UP! before storming dramatically out of the guest room and hurling myself onto the toddler bed. I needed a time out. In a big way. Sometimes it’s better for parent and baby to have those time outs. To walk away. Even though it makes me feel like the shittiest parent on planet earth. When you start trying to argue with a 5 month old, you’ve reached a certain low and need to get yourself out of there. Fast.

So into the toddler’s room I retreated. Angry. Guilty. Overwhelmed. Exhausted. I set my alarm and went back to check on the baby after 20 minutes. She was of course sound asleep and when she awoke this morning, I was met with sweet baby smiles and coos. She seems none the worse for wear. But I can’t help but feel pitiful. Defeated. This parenting shit is the hardest thing I’ll ever do.

Fact.

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I wrote the above first thing this morning while breastfeeding. Now that I am recharged thanks to coffee and a shower, I have some perspective and things of course seem a little less dire. It’s not quite so dark. But I feel that it’s important to share nonetheless, to remind my fellow parents that it’s okay to have those moments when we are at our wits’ end. When we need a time out. Take that time out, because when you tag back in and are greeted with smiling chubby chipmunk cheeks, you’ll actually be able to enjoy the sunshine that they provide.