Sleep is for P*ssies!

It has been weeks since I've slept more than a couple of hours in a row and I've come to the conclusion that sleep, while certainly nice and definitely coveted, is for p*ssies.  Settle down, Sleep Police, I'll explain.  I just hope I can finish before I completely pass out from utter exhaustion.

There was a time not long ago in my adult life - it seems like it was a lifetime ago - that I actually required nine-hours of sleep each night.  NINE HOURS!!  A third of the day spent in bed. . .just sleeping and dreaming my life away.  I do very little in moderation and can think of nothing quite so decadent as my old sleep schedule.  That said, I'm intensely envious of the hearty serving of sleep that my non-parent self used to enjoy and take for granted.

I'm currently operating on around four total hours of sleep.  I know, I know, "It's just preparing you for when the baby comes."  Yeah, well, I'm quite aware of the demands that an exclusively breastfed newborn puts on mama and I remember all too clearly the shockingly little amount of sleep that I had for months upon months after my son was born.  I hate to state the obvious, but this baby won't be here for 18- to 22-weeks so I have plenty of time to get back into the no-sleep groove.

What is causing my sleep troubles?  In a word, EVERYTHING!

My younger son begins kick up his heels at the same time each day.  What time would that be?  Around 1:00 or 2:00. . .in the morning.  This wouldn't be such a big deal if his dance fever didn't last until around 4:00 or 5:00 am.  I must confess that I still thrill at the feeling of his tiny hands and feet beating a tattoo against his uterine home.  I just wish he'd do it when I'd ordinarily be awake.

My older son, not to be outdone by his little brother, has also started to wake up in the middle of the night.  I can count on at least one (if not two or three!) nocturnal bedside visit from him.  He might have to pee, he might walk in and ask if his father is home, his might even grab a carton of milk from the fridge and crawl into bed with it.  Yes, that actually happened.  The strangest thing he seems to be doing (stranger than the milk carton incident in my book) is wandering out of his bedroom to the living room and crawling up on my rocking chair where he promptly conks out; though he once sat up, gave me a funny look and said, "What's going on out here?"  What indeed!

My body is also getting into the act and is my constant wake up whenever I actually am able to catch some winks between the shenanigans from my boys.  First, my bladder is clearly way too small because I'm up half the night just to pee.  Yes, I've tried limiting my fluid intake at night.  No, it doesn't appear to make much difference because my baby will still jump up and down on my bladder and make me feel like I have to pee.  Whether I actually do have to urinate is debatable because sometimes I think it's just the kicky pressure that gives me the sensation that I might have to pee, which of course wakes me up anyway.

If it's not my bladder signalling me to wake up, it's heartburn, gas, or my gallbladder.  The pain in my chest is becoming a serious pain in the @ss.  I can't sleep for hours if I'm awakened with the awful sensation that feels like I'm being run through with a sword.  The pain is directly below my sternum and it goes straight through and out my back.  I can't get a decent breath, let alone get comfortable enough to sleep, when this pain is presenting.  I'm not inclined to believe it's heartburn for reasons I've previously detailed, but I can't say that it's my gallbladder either.  That leaves gas so I'm not only getting fat, but I also have to fart.  Lovely.

I'm not sleeping anywhere near the amount of hours I'd like and guess what?  I'm still handling life.  Poorly at times perhaps, but handling it nonetheless.  Here's a thank you to my children and my body for showing me that, even with only a few hours to recharge each evening, I can do so much more than I could have ever dreamed. . .ah, dreams. . .zzzzzzzzz

I'm EXHAUSTED!

One wouldn't think that painters would leave your home a colossal mess, but some apparently do.  I worked my butt off from 1:00 until around 9:00 today so that my family could sleep at home tonight.  What did I do that took eight hours?  I thoroughly cleaned my kitchen, two bathrooms, the dining room, and my son's bedroom.  I decided to let everything else wait until tomorrow.  What's left?  My bedroom, the den, and our living room.

Why was I so determined to be home tonight?  I actually had a few reasons.  One is that I just don't sleep well when I'm away from home and I feel sleep-deprived as a result.  Another is that I have yet to be slammed with first trimester exhaustion so I'm trying to take advantage of my current energy levels.  Finally, my son lit up when he saw all his toys and he was eager to sleep with his "animal friends."  How eager?  He actually ASKED for a nap so he could sleep in his own bed!  Let's face it, the kid is the only reason that I busted my hump all damn day.

The house, half the house anyway, looks great.  I miss color on the walls and photos of my family, but this hopefully won't be my house for much longer.  I hear rain at the moment so I suppose the exterior painting will have to wait another day or so.

Hear Me RAWR!

Sometimes I swear that my body is out to get me. 

I haven't been able to fall asleep until after 2:00 am for a couple of nights.  Guess what?  I still have to get up and take care of my son whether I've slept enough or not.  That might not have been a problem 10 or 15 years ago, but I really have a hard time handling life when I'm over-tired.  I don't eat dinner at 4:30 pm or watch Matlock reruns, but I'm not exactly a spry teenager or young adult any longer.  My exhaustion got the better of me late this afternoon and I crashed out on the couch.  I don't generally fall asleep easily, and certainly not on the couch, but I could not keep my eyes open for one more second.  Thank goodness my husband was home for a little bit before returning to work this evening!

My breastmilk finally dried up completely around a month ago.  I haven't had any leakage since then.  My breasts have been a tingly mess since last night.  I often felt the tingling right before let down or right after a nursing session.  Maybe eating most of an entire bunch of kale (two batches of kale chips and colcannon) wasn't such a great idea.  Don't think that eating kale has anything to do with anything?  Guess again.  Apparently kale is a food that can help increase breastmilk supply.  Great.  Just what I need.  So much for my new favorite snack.  Oh, man, it was so good though that it was totally worth my discomfort.  Since my boobs hurt, that naturally means that my son has headbutted me in the breasts twice since yesterday.  Ouch!

I'm tired, my boobs hurt, and I'm in a pretty irritable mood all around.  Don't mess with me tonight, world, I'll take you all down if you so much as look at me funny!  Sounds a lot like PMS to me.  I think this might be one of those rare occasions that I go to sleep before my husband arrives home from work.

It's Easier to Go to Work

I'm just a stay-at-home-mom (SAHM), it's not like I'm ever busy, right? Wrong!

I babysat a 22-month old all day yesterday. I spent yesterday evening doing food prep (cutting veggies, cutting fruit, making dip, etc.) for a brunch playdate that I was hosting today. I enjoyed a bottle of wine last night once my husband came home from work. Okay, a bottle and a half. An alarm went off in my son's room in the middle of the night last night, which I had to turn off - apparently the kiddos figured out how to set the alarm clock. I woke up waaay too early (at least it felt that way) and had a hangover. I assembled and cooked four different dishes, put the fruit and veggies in pretty serving dishes & bowls, and set the table, buffet-style. I made coffee, boiled water in the kettle for tea or cocoa, decanted apple juice and milk, and poured sugar in a sugar bowl. We entertained six of our friends today and had a blast. We helped a friend label diapers for a yard sale tomorrow morning. We made arrangements to carpool with another friend to said yard sale. I left my son in the care of his father and spent four hours getting my hair done this evening. My son was not asleep when I arrived home and I had to soothe him to sleep. I'm actually glad that I overate at the brunch because I didn't end up getting supper until around nine o'clock. I have to go to the store sometime tomorrow morning to pick up a birthday gift for a special little girl and we'll be attending her birthday party tomorrow afternoon. We have dinner plans with another friend tomorrow evening.

I'm so busy lately, I wonder how I ever had the time to work.

In the midst of all these obligations, I'm worried about my father. He has spent the last two days in the ICU (still there tonight too), he's had to receive a total of four units of blood since his "routine outpatient procedure" on the 17th, and the procedure wasn't fully completed. I can't even go see him because I always have my son around and there is no way I can get away with bringing a 22-month old to the ICU.

I'm busy, I'm exhausted, and I'm unbelievably stressed out. Stop this train, I want to get off. I'm putting on the brakes come Sunday and that's that.