Last week a friend with a 4 month old made her status on FB: “So when do I get to sleep again?” It took everything in my power not to comment: “Never.”
I remember being at work in Kentucky one day, in a fog, when HH was like 3 months old, and reading a blog post by Brad Feld titled: “Are You Getting Enough Sleep?” Before reading the article, before even thinking, I yelled “NO!” at the computer and started to cry.
Lack of sleep is the worst. I don’t handle it well.
HH is going through a phase (but let’s be serious, when are they not “going through a phase”) where she is not sleeping. And yes, we have done cry it out (it works sometimes), but even if she puts herself back to sleep she’s up again within two or three hours. By 4am she’s usually up yelling, inconsolable, and I am so, so tired I bring her into bed with me, so at the very least I can lay down while she throws herself around, inadvertently punching me in the face, and maybe snooze on and off until 5 or 5:30.
Also, Paul is working nights. He gets home around 8am, sleeps, leaves again at 4pm. I am more or less flying solo.
So very quickly out the window has gone: meditation, yoga, early morning work, and my ability to focus or handle any kind of stress.
I have started putting her down at nights, cleaning the house, and IMMEDIATELY going to bed to read/fall asleep by 8:30. And I still feel like my head is full of cobwebs and cry when I can’t get the cereal bowls to stack up in the dish rack to dry (happened yesterday).
Paul, on the other hand, is getting about 5 hours of sleep a day and seems to be handling life just fine. Because he has superhuman strengths.
Like everything, this is temporary. Paul won’t be on nights next week, and this phase for HH will eventually, undoubtedly, morph into some other phase. I know I just have to hang in there a little longer. Or at least that’s what I tell myself.
On the bright side (literally), the sun is out! It is 74 degrees! And the pool is open! Hellloooooo February in LA.
One of the perks of being in a daze like this is workouts, for me, can be mentally much easier. I just do what I’m told and don’t think too hard about it (or anything else). I don’t have to get in the zone, because I’m already zoned out. It’s kind of great.
AND, weirdly enough, it doesn’t always have a huge impact on my ability to have a solid, sometimes even stellar, workout (though my 3 mile “run” yesterday might beg to differ.)
And today, because I am so energized and ready to rock after a good swim, Paul is getting up early to watch HH for an hour so I can get a workout in this afternoon. Because what fun is life if you’re not about to faceplant while your toddler tears around the house unrolling any roll of toilet paper she can find.
So for now I’m doing my best to keep the cereal bowl situation in perspective, strategizing on new pillow arrangements that prevent my child from rolling off the bed while simultaneously protecting me from getting pummeled by tiny, flailing fists, and embracing every opportunity to capitalize on on my inability to think.
Until the next phase kicks in.