I should sell my eyeballs on E-bay. All this lack of sleep is making them roll so far in the back of my head, they’re beginning to become useless to me. At least that’s the way it feels.
“What’s wrong with you?” asks my Mom
“Uggggg I’ve been up since 4:30am” says me, zombie Mom.
“What?! Why?” (aka are you special?)
“Because my kids hate me. And now I’m blogging about it.”
Head falls forward and smacks keyboard submitting this enticing new post. Cue sobbing.
Well, I know I shouldn’t expect to get perfect sleep with a 5 month old and a 1 1/2 year old. But they both have been on these awesome 12 hour streaks for a couple months now. So why should I expect any thing less than the best? Or at least if it was less, not shrinking down to a sick teaser trailer for slumber. It goes something like : after nursing every 2 hours through the night, we find ourselves putting Mr. Chubs back to bed peacefully at 4:30 am. At 5 am, eyes just start to relax, and you find the perfect spot in your pillow, at 5:01 am Pretty Princess stands up in her crib and starts screaming for a book. Faster than Michael Moore eating a ho-ho, I spring out of bed, and within one mighty swoop administer teething meds, provide binky and sing “Twinkle Twinkle” and plop PP back in crib. It’s 5:19 now.
By 5:30 Mr. Chubs has been irked out of sleep and is up again thanks to his thoughtful sister. PP and Mr. Chubs continue this cyclically half-hour pyscho-drive-mommy-insane streak until we arrive at 7:45 am, for whence Zombie Mom can no longer take it and picks up PP out of crib to hear her shouting
“YAY! MOMMY! BOOK!”. (toddler code for: I win)
And here I sit, straining my eyes to type out this profound event. With Pretty Princess climbing on my back asking for a bagel, a pile of children’s books sitting stacked in my lap and another window open on my browser showing me flight deals for a weekend escape to Bora Bora. First, looks like I’ll have to make some good money on selling my sleep before I can afford those tickets.