"Why am I going to bed? It's my mum who is tired!"
I’ve recently been slacking in blogdom. My son refuses to let me get a decent night’s rest, and that affects everything. I’m so sleep deprived now that I am weepy; all my emotions are right on the surface and it’s easy to feel like the world is out to get me.
Case in point: yesterday morning, after a night of being woken up every couple of hours by my son, my daughter woke up at 6:30am and was ready to take on the day. I, of course, was not. However, I somehow made it to 11:00, got the boy to sleep, and convinced the girl to lie down for a nap, as well. I went straight to bed…and, as soon as I get my head down, what happens? Some yahoo decides it’s a good time to mow the grass right outside my front window and wakes up the little Dude. ARRRGGGHH! Tears ensued. So did a raging migraine. I honestly contemplated murdering the man mowing the lawn. The day was getting worse by the minute.
I did manage to turn it around by late afternoon, after my mum-in-law picked up The Snippet; I took some codeine followed by a can of Diet Coke, got The Superdude to take another nap so I could get some healing sleep. I woke up feeling better. Jamie came home from work and food shopping. Chips were eaten. CSI was watched. Gloriously rampant – and also healing – sex was had. Thus, the day ended on a high. I fell into bed happily exhausted instead of despondently so.
However, while I may not be blogging quite as regularly as I would like, my creativity and expression has still [somehow] been flowing. I have written a short story (very short, but something I am proud of nonetheless), I have been taking some of – what I feel are – my best self-portraits to date, and I made myself a spangly sig image for The Northlands.
And now, here I find myself in yet another day, after another night of being woken up…I lost count how many times, and I simply do not have it in me to blog like I wanna. I do have stuff I really want to blog about, but lack of sleep makes presenting a coherent, interesting and, most importantly, well-written post nearly impossible (and I refuse to inflict my readers – or shame myself - with badly written, typo-ridden, rambling twaddle). So, for the foreseeable future, I won’t be blogging much. At this point, allow me to celebrate the small accomplishments: getting up, getting dressed (sometimes I make it that far, I have done so today; yay me), washing the dishes, getting myself and my children fed… making it through the day, which, to me, isn’t that small of an accomplishment after all.
5 Comments
I don\’t understand how you manage to get any sex done when you\’re that tired
Hope life lightens up a bit for you and gives you a break. At least long enough to get a decent amount of sleep *hugs*
Don\’t worry about the blog, it will still be here when you\’re ready for it
Some things are that important.
The small accomplishments that you should definitely be proud of –> you beat me every time you get dressed! I’m not (too) ashamed to admit that I sit around in pajamas unless I need to go outside into the big, bad world; Henry drool is a special thing that my PJs like to sop up.
I love Warrick’s top, and the fact that he is making defiant little fists.
My husband tends to do the night-waking when Mr. Droolchops decides to moan, as I have somehow managed to develop a habit of sleeping through without any knowledge of activity. I think my body believes I’m still on morphine tablets, and so comatoses out when I manage to fall asleep. We’re lucky that there’s often the two of us around, so naps can be had by anyone who needs them.
I’m in awe of you being able to function at all being alone with two tots under 3 years for most of the day! My brother and I are 20 months apart, and my mum testifies that it is in no way easy.
I don’t think Henry will get a sibling for a decade or so!
(sorry for the mega comment and I hope you are allowed a nap today)
Thank you, Lovely Lizbet.
Feel free to mega-comment anytime you like.
Yeah, I think my clothes are actually held together with Warrick-drool. LOL.
Jamie wakes up when Warrick whines and gets him out of his cot and brings him to me, because Warrick insists on me nursing him – if only for two minutes – before going back to sleep. But, even if it is only two minutes, the damage is done to my sleep.
I never planned on having two so close together; Warrick was a complete surprise. That’s why we call him “Sneaky”. If it wasn’t for my mum-in-law helping out, I’m sure I’d be in the looney-bin by now.
Indeed…fingers crossed for that nap.
*snuggles and leaves Autumn buckets and buckets of snuggly strength*
I know how hard this is on you, even though I only had one who wouldn’t sleep, and it was years ago, I clearly remember the exhaustion and desperation. Because that’s what it becomes after awhile. Like a junkie jonesing for a fix, you crave sleep like the most powerful drug on Earth. It WILL come. I promise. I know that doesn’t help much now, but it WILL come.