Mother needs something today to calm her down
And though she's not really ill
There's a little yellow pill
She goes running for the shelter of a mother's little helper
And it helps her on her way, gets her through her busy day.
Last week I had a doctor's appointment, at which I brought up the fact that I'm 99.9% sure that the baby is systematically gnawing my right hip into oblivion. Not wanting to appear to be quite the whiner that I am in real life, I added that I'm okay during the day, for the most part, but since I fell down my front porch steps (did I mention that? Slipped right down them. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Very embarassing) the pain at night while I was trying to fall asleep was keeping me up, and as a result, I was being a very grouchy girl and the dog and my husband cowered in fear constantly. I was hinting I wanted a pain killer....some sort of a tylenol3, or something with codeine, maybe. Instead she gave me a sleeping pill. 30 sleeping pills, actually.
"Men just aren't the same today,"
I hear every mother say
They just don't appreciate that you get tired
They're so hard to satisfy. You can tranquilize your mind
So go running for the shelter of a mother's little helper
And four help you through the night, help to minimize your plight.
And so, Thursday night I anxiously cracked open my $45 dollar prescription, and dumped out a palmfull of the tiniest medication I've ever laid my eyes on. Seriously, kids, we're talking grains of sand. Okay, grains of really big grainy sand. I stuck one to the tip of my finger and poured the rest in and then read the warning labels, while carefully balancing my sand grain pill on my finger. "May cause drowsiness" Heh. "Take on an empty stomach" Curious. I tried to remember when I had last eaten, and decided if i couldn't remember, I couldn't possibly be full, right? "Do no operate heavy machinery" They must mean things like dishwashers and vacuums, I'm certain of it. I wiped the little pill onto my tongue and drank some juice and settled in for a blissful night's sleep in which i have "devoted at minimum 7-8 hours" as per directions. it was going to be bliss I just knew it.
"Things are different today,"
I hear ev'ry mother say
Cooking fresh food for a husband's just a drag
So she buys an instant cake and she burns her frozen steak
And goes running for the shelter of a mother's little helper
It did work, I was out pretty quick. Unfortunately, when I awoke in agony two hours later I was much too groggy to be able to roll my sorry self over, and too out of it to coordinate any sort of movement, so I laid there half heartedly attempting to flop, all the while feeling like I was made of a water balloon. Eventually, I decided comfort was over rated, and went back to sleep. To my dismay, though, I was awake again in another hour or so, having to pee, like always. This time I couldn't ignore it, and made my mind up to get myself to the bathroom. It was an event. Did you know that hardwood floors turn into jello at night? And the walls coat themselves with some slick substance that makes leaning on them impossible. And lightswitches move on their own. It seriously wasn't where I left it before I went to bed. Once that was discovered, I proceeded to marvel at just how soft the bathmat was under my feet, and then contemplated going to sleep just sitting on the toilet, because it was THAT comfortable. But my mother stormed the bathroom, demanding to know what "in the hell I was doing" and put me back in bed.
Life's just much too hard today,"
I hear ev'ry mother say
The pursuit of happiness just seems a bore
No more running to the shelter of a mother's little helper
What a drag it is getting old.