Toothbrushes & Butt Paste...



A good night's sleep is a golden treasure. It is a rare diamond in the rough of parenthood. There are many days, while I'm sitting at the office or teaching a class on sexual harassment, that I would pay any monetary amount for a peaceful nap. And, while many of the people in my classes get paid to snore while I discuss how it is inappropriate to grab a handful of ass in the workplace, I am not as lucky. Over the past 15 months, since my tornado and hurricane were born, sleep has never been as good as it once was.

 

At first, as any new parent knows (especially those blessed with multiples), sleep comes in short, sporadic and restless spurts, if at all. As your children age, go through teething, illnesses and just those rough nights, sleep improves but it is never great. On those rare instances where you are lucky enough to end up with a babysitter for the night, you get a glimpse of what sleep used to be like. Those incredible gifts remind you that when you chose to get "busy" with Boyz II Men or R. Kelly in the background, that you forever changed your life. Sleep will not be the same, not in a few months, a year, or in a decade. When you chose to be a responsible parent, you forfeited your right to sleep in. You chose to stay awake when your child is sick, scared or just refusing to do that "sleep" thing that you would literally give your left arm for. Even now, as my boys almost always sleep through the night, I still find myself sleeping lighter than ever before.

 

Subconsciously, I wake up to every small noise wondering if my babies need me. After all, they could be being attacked by ravenous raccoons.

 

So, while people worry about The Walking Dead, I just worry about parents, particularly moms, that are deprived of sleep. And, I know my fair share of them.

 

If you read the title of this post, you are probably wondering what all this has to do with toothbrushes and butt paste. But, if you have read my posts in the past, you know I write with ADHD. I jump all over the place, occasionally connecting topics that don't always seem to go together. But, at some point, I at least try to make a connection. So, here it goes...

 

The problem with sleep deprivation is we become unpredictable. Suddenly, people who were previously what we would consider smart, sophisticated, and perfectly sane become insane dummies that forget to wear pants. We walk around in a daze trying to remember to latch our children in their car seats and trying not to fall asleep in line at the grocery store. It happens. We start to slowly lose our minds. I am pretty sure that my twins are secretly sucking my brain matter out of my nose on those rare occasions that I actually fall asleep on the couch. After all, they are always plotting against me in their secret language. They point at me and giggle. But, little do they know, I will unintentionally get back at them one day.

 

The other day, towards the end of another long week, I was dragging. My wife wasn't doing much better as our boys had run her ragged for the past week. They used her as a jungle gym, held her down when she tried to do her crunches, and had her constantly picking them up and putting them down. When bath time came, I volunteered to get splashed, possible peed on and wash little cellulite cheeks. When bath time ended, my wife asked me to bring the toothbrushes and toothpaste. After all, little piranhas need their teeth cleaned too. Half asleep, trying to hold on for just another 15 minutes of teeth brushing and story time, I brought the toothbrushes and toothpaste...

 

Or what I thought were those things...

 

 

 

Somehow, the above is what I ended up with. Without noticing, I prepared two Sesame Street toothbrushes with a slightly cream/eggshell colored paste that just didn't look right. As I got ready to brush the first set of teeth, the toothbrush approached Boston's mouth, but my wife yelled "STOP!”

 

I jerked my head around to see her holding up BUTT PASTE not TOOTHPASTE.

 

"Are you using this?" she questioned.

 

To which I responded, "What? Their breathe smells like ass!"

 

I told you one day I would get them back. And, while my plan was foiled by their loving mother, there will be another day that I am sleep deprived and their breathe smells like their posterior.

 

Justin Barrow aka The Bad Idea Dad