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There's nothing like the laughter of a baby. It takes away your deepest nightmares. After a bad day at work that's honestly all you need to forget everything. Unless it's 1 am. And you live alone. She's laughing. Now, this is a nightmare.
I love her. I love her to death. But being a single parent can be really funny. Like you have to laugh at your problems, to start with. You start dreaming of having Superman or Batman for help. Not that they would count as 'being-there-for-you' fathers, in any case.
As my sleepy pup eyes struggle to help my dark circles get some sleep, my body shivers to alarm me. It's time to wake up. She's awake and she's laughing. I fear my boss will again mistake me for a Panda. But the job is done.
My nerves won't exactly relax though they are still begging. A part of me knows, a laughing baby is an awake baby. An awake baby in a house with a sleeping mom is, well, home alone. And the movie series only bring the demons trying to harm my baby to my mind.
I would never know if she could fight them like that. Because I'd never let her. I'm in an upward plank or whatever they call it, half wondering if I could share her humour and laugh to sleep. Jeez. Anything works now, if it leads to sleep in the end.
This is the only time you need a man. Or a woman. Or a dog. Or anyone. But knowing there's no consistent service standard in people, like you get in a McD, (the same damn thing, every time), I am now on my knees, eyes looking at her laughing through my eyelashes.
This is a complex yoga stunt, I think, as I kiss her, hoping it calms her down.
What can be so funny? Why do I not see it? Of course, my eyes are still closed! Silly me!
"Open your eyes, momma!"
My body is a revolutionary rebel. It will do any other pose, but completely get up.
"Just look at that!" she rolls laughing.
I can see a ROFL emoji. My baby is cute and animated. In 3D.
I turn without any childlike excitement at my reflection in the mirror. Hair ashtray. No, you read it right. It literally is ashtray. Only the ash seems to be milk powder she's been eating on me. A pink ribbon hangs from one baby made braid on my right ear. Of course, the one I've no idea about. There's blue and cyan eyeshadow on my left eye. She's a makeup artist, I tell you. Plan B if she doesn't become an engineer. A blanket half falling down my back. Only I don't remember being that responsible to crawl under one.
I burst laughing at myself. I can give tough competition to any cartoon character.
Bruushing nose with her, I realise someone's a genius at creating laughter. Of course, my eyes were closed.
Batman! Come hither and watch us sleep. The little girls got work tomorrow. Rolling together cuddling won't help. Anyone got sleep potion?
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I love her. I love her to death. But being a single parent can be really funny. Like you have to laugh at your problems, to start with. You start dreaming of having Superman or Batman for help. Not that they would count as 'being-there-for-you' fathers, in any case.
As my sleepy pup eyes struggle to help my dark circles get some sleep, my body shivers to alarm me. It's time to wake up. She's awake and she's laughing. I fear my boss will again mistake me for a Panda. But the job is done.
My nerves won't exactly relax though they are still begging. A part of me knows, a laughing baby is an awake baby. An awake baby in a house with a sleeping mom is, well, home alone. And the movie series only bring the demons trying to harm my baby to my mind.
I would never know if she could fight them like that. Because I'd never let her. I'm in an upward plank or whatever they call it, half wondering if I could share her humour and laugh to sleep. Jeez. Anything works now, if it leads to sleep in the end.
This is the only time you need a man. Or a woman. Or a dog. Or anyone. But knowing there's no consistent service standard in people, like you get in a McD, (the same damn thing, every time), I am now on my knees, eyes looking at her laughing through my eyelashes.
This is a complex yoga stunt, I think, as I kiss her, hoping it calms her down.
What can be so funny? Why do I not see it? Of course, my eyes are still closed! Silly me!
"Open your eyes, momma!"
My body is a revolutionary rebel. It will do any other pose, but completely get up.
"Just look at that!" she rolls laughing.
I can see a ROFL emoji. My baby is cute and animated. In 3D.
I turn without any childlike excitement at my reflection in the mirror. Hair ashtray. No, you read it right. It literally is ashtray. Only the ash seems to be milk powder she's been eating on me. A pink ribbon hangs from one baby made braid on my right ear. Of course, the one I've no idea about. There's blue and cyan eyeshadow on my left eye. She's a makeup artist, I tell you. Plan B if she doesn't become an engineer. A blanket half falling down my back. Only I don't remember being that responsible to crawl under one.
I burst laughing at myself. I can give tough competition to any cartoon character.
Bruushing nose with her, I realise someone's a genius at creating laughter. Of course, my eyes were closed.
Batman! Come hither and watch us sleep. The little girls got work tomorrow. Rolling together cuddling won't help. Anyone got sleep potion?
Make someone's day. Comment. Share. fb/Doveranalyst || Twitter.com/doveranalyst || Pinterest.com/doveranalyst Hear the sexy voice. Bubbly.net/rjtanu | Instagram.com/rjtanu Shortcut to this website j.mp/doveranalyst
I am trying feed burner alternatives. Get your own 👉
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Just bought this after lockdown. Super comfortable for daily wear.
This ring has survived for years! Cabin crew literally gasped, "Where did you get it from, Ma'am!"
Safe nail paints are very important when you're pregnant or cooking, for example, making a dough. We Indians love to eat with our hands too. Let's avoid some chemicals while we are at it.
