slowly going crazy

Or, A Glimpse into the Life of a Seriously Sleep-Deprived Mother.

If someone, anyone, had come to me at 5am this morning and offered to adopt my baby, I would have gladly handed him over without a word. Well, maybe not, but those were the kind of thoughts running through my head at that hour. Last night, to the best of our collective memories (Greg, my mom, and me), Evan woke up 6 times at least. I was in bed for 9 hours, after dozing on the couch for perhaps an hour, but no amount of sleep is enough if it's coming in 2-hour increments. I've become a coffee drinker simply to function in the morning. I encourage quiet activities for my rambunctious preschooler because I don't have the energy to keep up with him, and I'm too short-tempered to deal with shouting. Sometimes I accidentally fall asleep on the couch while the boys are playing.

This doesn't happen every day, thank goodness, but it happens. Today is one of those days where I will be looking forward all day long for Greg to come home and then I will retreat into what little quiet I can find. It's been at least 10 months since I've had a full night's sleep. When I'm feeling too sorry for myself, I think about how lucky I am that I only have to deal with children on a daily basis. I can't imagine what my life would be like if I had to go to work every day and function in a real job with performance standards and requirements, after a long night of broken sleep. On days like today I feel incredibly fortunate that I set my own schedule, I determine my own work, I can fall asleep on the couch if I really need to, and what I don't do today can most likely be put off until tomorrow when I may be a little more rested and capable of dealing.

And when I'm really feeling sorry for myself, like today, I remember that someday my baby will sleep through the night, someday... and if not, he will be out of the house in another 18 years. At least there's that.