Sorry I've been MIA again folks. This sleep thing with the infant seems to be a roller coaster ride. Just when I think we've resolved my total sleep induced psychosis by having the husband do the first feeding of the night the kid kicks me in the teeth by not letting me sleep from 3am on most mornings. He sleeps, mind you, but awakens every 10-30 min, just when I'm falling back asleep or in some kind of cycle with a random triplet who is also waking every so often in the wee morning hours.
I suck at lack of sleep. I believe I've said that before. I just had no idea how much I suck at it. Because it isn't relative is it? I mean, before, I was getting no sleep, or 45 min chunks all night long. Now I'm getting half a night's sleep and I'm still tired. It doesn't feel much better, although I am pretty sure I'm less psychologically on edge. But Sunday morning I got walloped by my psyche. I was standing in the kitchen, having gotten the children and myself up and dressed, made their breakfast, started the laundry and packed the bags to go to grandma's house for the day when it hit me:
"I'm never going to be 'not tired' again. Ever."
People, I fell to the floor like someone punched me in the gut. It was overly dramatic, perhaps, but I cried. Thankfully the husband was feeding the kids breakfast while the infant slept, so I could give in to this moment of despair and get myself back together again. I mean, logically, I know this is not true that I will never feel well rested again. At some point I'll be allowed to sleep again regularly.
Like in 2 years.
But that seems like forever. Obviously. And I just lust after a day where I can sleep in, loll around in bed, read a book in bed and stay there all day snoozing and reading all day. It's like porn for my mind that idea. The soundtrack is more ocean waves than boom chick a wow wow though. But I'd settle for a white noise machine.
This having babies thing is nuts. And the nuttier thing? Having another doesn't seem so bad to me. I think it's an addiction, like tattoos or drugs or something. There's this mystique, this magic about the idea of being pregnant and giving birth to another neat little human being at the end. Clearly I've forgotten what a miserable pregnant woman I am. Clearly I'm not looking at my ravaged body. Clearly I'm so sleep deprived that I've lost my ever lovin' mind.
Thankfully, the husband won't let me forget. We will not be having another. Under any circumstances barring divine immaculate conception. Because who could argue with God if he wants you to have a freakin' 5th child? I mean I don't really need the universe to be against me when I already think it is.
So, baby's up. Time to go back to work. If you see me sleep walking while pushing a child down the side of 101 in a stroller, just shove me into the back of your pickup truck and take me home.