Friday, October 01, 2004

Sleepless in Suburbia

Damn I’m moody. I’m like a seesaw. Up down up down. I can blame it on the lack of sleep. I am fully justified. The ironic thing is that Daniel is actually sleeping now. He sometimes cries a few times in the night, but not for long. And he generally falls right back to sleep.

It’s not like in the beginning, when I was getting up to feed him every hour and a half, feeding for half an hour, then back to what you could call sleep if you stretched the definition, until he cried again. That’s when I was counting sleep in minutes and hours. “I got 40 minutes of sleep that time!” I’d exclaim excitedly. I’d sit and obsessively total up the various times I slept and announce – “Four hours and twelve minutes last night! Yeah!” I was bleary eyed, manic, emotional and, with the approach of nightfall, I became temporarily despondent, but I somehow made it through with minimal insanity. And Michael and I didn’t even fight. He gauged my level of craziness and exhaustion and then acted accordingly -- soothing, hugging or ignoring me. All of which worked after a while. I did the same for him when he reached his limits.

The first few weeks were spent holding Daniel all the time. And I mean All The Time (every time we put him down, he cried and, of course, this terrified us beyond belief given that we had no idea whatsoever what we were doing). We’d take turns sitting on the couch with him while the other slept upstairs. Sometimes, he’d fall asleep and we could put him down for ten or twenty minutes and we’d curl up on the couch and savor every moment until the next cry. I’ve never watched such bad TV in my life. Though one night Swingers was on and I was so happy about it that I teared up. I used to walk by our bedroom and stare longingly at the bed. “I wonder why I never told you how I felt about you before all this?” I’d whisper. “Dear, dear bed. How I miss you.”

Still, now that the little man's going eight-plus hours without eating and now that he sleeps peacefully in his crib with his arms flung out above his head, his lips pouty and his five inch legs encased in footsie pajamas (so so cute, you cannot even imagine), I’m still not sleeping. I feel the world is conspiring against me to never, ever let me get a full night’s sleep. First, it was the whole breastfeeding thing. Basically, it’s the same concept as a glass underneath a dripping faucet. It’s going to fill up after a while. And if no one empties the glass, it will overflow. Or, it will hurt like hell. Oh wait, sorry, I left the analogy. You get the point. All I’ll say is “ouch.” After a few days, that subsided, nature having a way of taking care of these things quickly.

Then it was me and my usual insomnia, waking up every few hours because I was used to it and then not being able to fall back asleep. I find it the perfect time to let my mind race through the muddle of the days and confront every single problem I can possibly think of or make up.

That too is getting better and my brain is allowing my poor overtired body to sleep. But now it's these random, ridiculous things that are waking me:

Murphy throwing up all night (see previous column).

Michael’s strange cousin Stan calling from LA at 11:30. 11:30! I mean, I know there’s time difference. But so does he. No one calls new parents at 11:30. It just isn’t done. So, of course, I raced downstairs thinking, “Oh my god, someone’s died!” Maybe someone had. He didn’t leave a message.

And, of course, the old reoccurring issue -- Snoring Michael. Twice last night I was awakened by the rumble. The first time I pushed him so he would turn onto his side. It works. The second time came the punch. Hard. Rousing him from his noise-filled slumber. It’s always a bit sad when it comes to that. I’m lying there, absolutely furious at him but knowing it’s not his fault. Still, I’m pissed. So I punch him and he wakes with a jolt, going, “Wha??? Whas wrong?” All sleepy and slurry.

“STOP SNORING DAMN YOU!” I shriek like some crazed shrew. And then a tiny part of me feels bad, but I quickly shove that aside and get back to my righteous anger and I lie there boiling and just waiting for one more snore. In my half dream state I decided that if he did it again, I’d pour the glass of water at my bedside over his head. Luckily, it didn’t come to that. This is Michael’s life. But I’m so worth it.

2 Comments:

At October 8, 2005 at 8:56 AM, Blogger paige said...

Your blog is great! It's hard to find blogs with good content and people talking about snoring these days! I have a secret snoring exposed if you want to come check it out

 
At November 7, 2005 at 6:43 PM, Blogger Girly Girl said...

If you want over 18 adults only dating then Swinger Dating is the site for you. Totally free too :)

 

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