I used to have a magic baby. A sweet little bug who slept, ate, looked cute for about an hour, then went back to sleep.
I would like to have that baby back please.
Now I have a tiny little monster. Who fusses when you leave the room, and fusses once you’ve got her to sleep, and fusses because she has forgot what she was originally fussing about, and that makes her feel, well, FUSSY.
She looks like an evil sorcerer while she sleeps. Wriggling her tiny arms free of her swaddle, then flinging them triumphantly above her head once they have been liberated. Then, while still asleep, she throws them about with violent thrusts and jabs. If you try to hold them still for her, she grunts and pants. Then wriggles and jiggles until she’s awake and not pleased with the situation.
Eric and I are pretty sure she’s either conducting a symphony or using her black magic to turn us both in to giant pacifiers. Because let’s face it, when it comes to her we’re suckers.
So if she sleeps, even if it’s like a sorcerer, one would conclude that I get to sleep. No, no, not the case. At night she manages to make just enough noise and commotion so that her mother doesn’t get any sleep. And if I do start to drift off, she decides to throw in one of those isolated screams I’ve mentioned before. Or she cries just enough to get me out of bed and to pick her up, but not enough to wake herself up. And during the day, she sleeps best if music blasts loudly. Most specifically The Cure’s acoustic album or any Daft Punk. Yes, she must be European at heart because she LOOOOVES any sort of horribly loud techno. I’m not kidding, the louder the better. Which is great for her, but mommy + daft punk does not = sleep.
But to be fair, it’s not entirely her fault I don’t sleep. I’m horrible at falling asleep after I wake up, no matter how tired I am. And I also have a really hard time taking naps. Which is why I’m not taking one now. Yeah, I know, I’m screwed.
So this morning, after no less than 4 hours of me trying to get her to settle down for long enough so that I could add to my 3 hours of sleep from last night, I finally gave up.
I decided to stop crying from exhaustion and come to grips with the fact that I will never sleep again. Or at least not any time in the foreseeable future. And the more I want sleep, and think about sleep, the worse my life will be. So I’ve decided to surrender to sleeplessness, and let myself exist in a state of barely conscious stupor. That way I’m too dumb to get upset about it.
I’ve also decided to reward myself for being patient. I give myself gold stars for saying, “Oh baby I love you, mommy is here.” When she cries instead of a sarcastic, “What are you crying about?! You just had a three hour nap and have fresh milk on tap.”
So this morning, after an almost completely sleepless night (Eric does get up and take over for part of the night by the way, I just can’t fall back asleep. Eric is an angel.) and a completely sleepless morning, I put the bug in the car seat, and drove to Kneader’s for their ridiculously fatty, ridiculously yummy french toast with fresh whipped cream, strawberries, and that buttery maple syrup. And then we (meaning I) ate ALL of it, in the car while listening to a Pandora’s Daft Punk station. She slept, I ate, and Daft Punk jammed. Baby weight be damned.
All in all, I know I have a fairly reasonable baby. It’s not like this everyday, and I know a lot of moms have it much, much, worse. But I just needed to vent for a bit. I find it’s best to see the humor in these things when possible. If possible.
So I bid you all goodnight. And pray that if I’m not sleeping, that at least you are.