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Browsing Tag: sleep deprivation

To Everything, Turn, Turn, Turn

Cian doesn’t sleep through the night by himself. I mean, this isn’t something new: I don’t think he’s really slept through the night well since he was about 20 weeks prenatal, rolling around in my belly at 2 a.m. like some deranged BMX biker on Red Bull (speaking of Red Bull: is that still around? Or am I just remembering 1999 a little better than I should?). We moved him out of a crib into his real bed a few months ago, thinking that maybe he was just too big for the confined space (he was) and that having more room would help him relax (it didn’t). So here we are now: lying down with him as he falls asleep at night (third child says, “haha, SUCKERS!”), then jolting out of sleep around 11, 12, 1 in the morning when he wakes up, realizes we’re not with him, and either cries like we’ve all decided to go to  Fiji and leave him behind, or shuffles into our room to crawl into our bed like some cat burglar with separation issues, and we wake…

And They Wonder Why I’m Grouchy

I had intended to stay up until David came home that night, but I fell into bed at 10:30. David had been travelling, and as always happens by the end of one of his trips, I felt like a piece of stale bread somebody left under the broiler too long. You know, toast. He arrived home from Connecticut a short while later, dropping his suitcase on the tile floor with a clatter,  then cursing under his breath–his whisper, bless his heart, is sort of the same decibel at which you and I speak–because he’d been trying to be quiet. Irony, that. It was 10:52. I came downstairs to chat, and after muttering a few incoherent sentences, was ushered back to bed. (A delirious wife in crumpled pajamas and still-wet hair trying to hold a conversation in their kitchen with the road-weary husband, still wearing his tie from seven that morning? Moments like that are what keep a marriage on FIRE. Or maybe that’s just my eyes burning from lack of sleep. Either or. ) At 2:33 a.m., Cian woke. I fed him, even though the doc says…

Not for the Weary

I’m not exactly the best person to be around when I’m sleep-deprived.  Let’s just get that out there right now.  I become bitter, cranky, shaky–and that’s after I’ve replaced all forms of hydration with black coffee (I realize that it may also be because of all the coffee I act like a kid who just got his hand slammed in a door–lots of shaking, horrified expressions, fear of loud noises–but it beats falling asleep on my feet while I’m scrambling eggs in the morning…). David knows to steer clear of me on these days.  It’s a survival mechanism he’s honed over the last eight years of marriage.  He brews an extra-big pot of coffee, clears out early, and doesn’t call until close to dinnertime, usually to gauge whether or not he’s picking up take-out on the way home.  Those dear daughters of ours, though?  Well, they’re stuck with me.  All day.  I feel bad for the kids. A couple of days ago, SK was acting up–stealing…