So for the past 6 nights, my daughter has decided to wake up hollering and shaking the rails of her crib in the middle of the night and will not stop screaming until my husband or I go in and rock her. As cute as she is, I would really prefer not to see her at 3 am, particularly when she is yelling for no apparent reason. I took her to the doctor to follow up on her most recent ear infection (sigh) and she’s healthy, so I think she’s yelling just because she can. And maybe because she’s finally getting her top two teeth.
Anywho, I don’t think I can fully explain how freaking mean and grumpy and generally psychotic lack of sleep makes me. For example, I could not find a matching sock for my son this morning (laundry tends to reproduce like the Duggars in my house when mama’s tired), and I seriously considered punching the laundry basket. Because it really had it coming.
Functioning at work while sleep deprived is always a bit of a performance. It requires a little extra make-up, a lot more working with the door closed, and massive amounts of coffee, combined with telling a few select blabbermouths about my lack of sleep so the word slowly makes its way to the people who need to know that, really, don’t mess with Sarah today. On a conference call yesterday, someone I’ve never met actually said, “Oh, did you finally get some sleep last night?” Well done, my co-blabbermouths.
And tonight is my first Girls Night Out in, oh, like a year and a half. Although it probably doesn’t qualify as a real girls night out because (1) I am wearing frumpy flats and my hair is a wreck; (2) there will be no drunken dancing unless something goes terribly wrong; and (3) we are going to a book signing. At a synagogue. Somewhere in the middle of pregnancy #2 I officially became lame. Whatevs. The point is that I’m exhausted, feeling sad that I won’t be putting my kids to bed tonight, and not able to appreciate the good things I have going on today.
Some day I’ll make a Costanza-style napping nest under my desk. If only I had the energy.