Panic

Oh the panic. The panic I feel when I've just fed, changed and burped the infant and instead of being sleepy eyed and relaxed the infant is all "where's the party?" It's intense. You'd think I was watching every piece of chocolate on the planet being destroyed forever, the panic is so bad. Especially at 4 am. After only one night with only 3 hours of sleep almost ended my marriage I realized I have a problem.

An Achilles' heel you might say.

It's lack of sleep. Lack of sleep makes me cry. Like an infant, all curled up in fetal position and snot running out of my nose and blubbering. You might think that I would have crumbled with the triplets and all, because they could triple team me at night, but no. See, back then my dad bankrolled some night nannies for me. Oh yeah baby. I had 7 nights a week of actual sleep while wonderful, beautiful, delightful, insomniac Irish ladies cared for the triplets instead of me.

Ahhhhhhh. That was nice.

This time I am personally bankrolling night coverage three nights a week for this month out of what were the proceeds from the sale of my house 5 years ago. My 'rainy day fund' you might say. No more rainy days than one where I haven't slept is all I'm saying, but it sucks to use the money up. And there are still 4 days left in the week, or rather nights, that are all up to me. Because I'm the boob lady.

Kinda hard to make the husband do the feeding until he starts lactating. And while I'd love to see that, I don't need him to be hormonal too. That might send me over the edge.

But I need to work on this one. Because at the end of the day where I had only had 3 hours of sleep do you know what happened? I survived. Shocking really. I can do it. The world doesn't come to an end. Now, admittedly, my kids suffered a bit. I was crabby, short tempered, impatient, and COMPLETELY intolerant of tantrums. Com. plete. ly. But I didn't beat anyone.

No, really, I didn't. I was homicidal but I restrained myself. Because the only thing worse than lack of sleep? Fully body strip searches with orifices included. You know, like in jail.

Yeah, I coulda used a margarita, but I survived on total exhaustion. And the next night I slept like the dead during the 2-3 hour intervals I was given. I hope no one cried, because I didn't hear it. So, the reality is I have to get over this panic. The world will be ok if I don't sleep. The kid will eventually become more predictable in his sleep patterns, and I will get my 4 to 6 hours of sleep a night like I was getting before he was born. And then, when they're all teenagers? I might even get 7 or 8 hours a night. That will be freakin' awesome. I might even try cleaning my own house.

Anyways, I need therapy on this one. It is hardwired. I LOVE sleep. Love it. I miss it. I miss it like I miss the days I could work in the mall and eat a Cinnabon every day for lunch and still be a size 10 (brilliantly skinny for me so shut up.) I just need to hold tight and realize I will get it back eventually and no one ever died due to lack of sleep caused by infants. I think. And I won't either. Right?