I’m struggling to think of a more annoying sound than The Womb Raider’s whining. Tonight, she went at it for maybe 2 hours straight and had both me and The Husband desperate for relief.
The sound I am referring to is different to crying. Crying can normally be sorted out pretty swiftly with a highly practiced repertoire of food, boob, playtime, singing or a nap. I can count on one hand the number of times where one of those five things have not resulted in a contented little Raider.
Tonight she belted out some continuous whinging that was almost unbearable, for it felt like someone had sliced off the top of my skull like a hard boiled egg, scooped out my brain and replaced it with a million angry bees.
Dinner got spat in my face (literally), toys tossed on the floor, nipples crippled, songs ignored and the last option of bed fought against harder than a siege in Game of Thrones.
Despite it being a Tuesday, I began wondering if there was any vodka in the house. And started compiling a mental list of things I would rather do than listen to this incessant drone.
1. Stick hot needles in my eyes.
2. Slowly peel back and remove each of my toenails.
3. Listen to Pit Bull ft. J Lo on repeat for 3 weeks straight.
4. Eat a bucket of mud.
5. Run over myself with my own car.
The list got longer and madder as the whinging continued and all I had left to cling to was that 7 o’clock bedtime deadline that I was not going to miss, come hell or high water.
It could be more teeth, it could be the start of a cold, it could be just because. But crikey when it’s happening, you really feel like you are entering crazy town.
What is it about that noise that makes it so unbearable? The tone? The pitch? The fact that she will smile in the middle of it fooling me into thinking whatever silly dance, song, piece of food or other rediculous act of desperation I am trying is actually doing any good? Who knows.
Truth is, it’s more likely to have had something to do with her being awake since 2.30pm and being so overtired she didn’t know what to do with herself. So the real question is:
Why is it that I only think of these things once she has finally fallen asleep?!