Guess who’s the hostage now?
My baby has made me WELL aware of why sleep deprivation is used as a form of war tactics in the world of torture.
Because it’s WICKED MEAN.
I just rolled out of bed at noon.
NOON.
And this is because I was up from 5:00 until 9:00am willing her shut her eyes (and her mouth) so that I might be able to function like a proper woman today and not as something dragged from the Tales of the Crypt.
I’m sleeping in random chunks all day long right now, truly trying to “sleep when baby sleeps” and luckily for me, I’ve had Em here with my other kids to make that a possibility.
I can’t even describe for you the state of pure insanity I would be living in if I couldn’t grab sleep sporadically throughout the day.
Some nights I truly get lucky–she’ll sleep from midnight or 1:00am to 5:00.
On the mornings after those nights, I feel like I could move mountains.
Other nights, like last night, she wakes an hour after I last nurse her, nurses FOR an hour, falls asleep, when I put her down beside me, she wakes up, and we start the process all over again.
It’s the unpredictibility of sleep/no sleep that leads a person to the funny farm.
Today I’m considering admitting myself.
Or I would.
But we have plans with friends tonight and I think there’s ONE glass of wine calling my name.
The funny farm can wait, I suppose.
Actually, I think they keep a bed there with my name on it.
I’m a “frequent flyer” in the crazy department.
My newborn is likely hitting her two-week growth spurt which is why I honestly am feeling like the World’s Biggest Boob right now and why her ability to sleep has gone to crap.
Hopefully we’ll sail right through this period quickly and she’ll be bigger and NICER really, really, REALLY soon.
