Insomniac sounds like maniac for a reason.
When I’m sleep-deprived (which is often these days) I turn into a delirious lunatic, putting the milk in the pantry and spewing mean insults at my hubby in the middle of the night, with no recollection of what I called him in the morning. What’s even more upsetting is that when I finally get to rest my weary bones, I’m wide awake as if I had just taken 5 shots of caffeine. You’d think I’d collapse right into sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow, but no. I toss and turn like a madwoman. Then I start thinking of the baby waking up and how I’m wasting precious sleep time, which only delays slumber even longer. It’s beyond frustrating!
It’s probably my own fault because I haven’t really tried to fix the problem. No warm milk, counting sheep, or reading a book. I just lay there, willing the Sandman to visit.
I’ve never been a sound sleeper. I thought if there was any time in my life when I wouldn’t have trouble falling asleep, it’d be as a new mom. What’s worse is that my hubby closes his eyes and is asleep in 2 seconds, leaving me listening to the whistle of his breathing that sometimes sounds like our daughter crying, which in turn causes my stomach to seize as if on a rollercoaster. Oi vey!
I’d give anything to fall asleep whenever, wherever. However, pitch black and complete silence are required. I hope my daughter doesn’t have the same problem. They say not to be quiet when she’s asleep, yet it’s instinctual to whisper whenever she’s napping. And if the dogs bark — forgetaboutit — in their crate they go. I doubt she’ll end up like me because she doesn’t even need the white noise machine I stole from her to use as my own. So pathetic, I know. And now I’m addicted.
Some sweet souls try to tell me that sleep is overrated. But when it’s 3 am and you’re the one dragging your butt from a comfy bed to soothe a screaming mimi only to lay back down and be wide awake, then you can tell me that I’ll sleep when I’m dead. Because functioning on less than six hours of sleep sure makes you feel like you’re already there!
Forget diamonds — concealer is a new mummy’s best friend! Cursed with spotty skin from an early age, concealer and I have been bosom buddies for a loooong time. But now I rely on it for fear of looking like the undead without it, as well as covering up PMS breakouts. Awesome. It’s no surprise that I would frighten young children first thing in the morning, yet when I look over my daughter’s crib she’s not horrified by my zombie-like appearance, she’s tickled to see me. Now that’s love.
My mommy guru (sister-in-law) used to tell me the wonders of a highlighter pencil and how it could brighten up the dullest of faces. But to me, it was just one more thing I couldn’t be bothered with, plus I didn’t have kids yet and didn’t know the importance of looking well-rested even if it was just smoke and mirrors. I was already putting moisturizer, concealer, foundation, powder, eyeliner, and mascara on…wasn’t that enough?!?
Apparently the answer is no!
I didn’t know what it meant to be truly tired until my baby came along. I also didn’t know what it meant to look truly tired until my baby came along. There’s nothing worse than someone saying, “You look tired.” Really? Why don’t you tell me how fat my ass is while you’re at it? What do people think they’re accomplishing by telling someone this? That once you hear it, you’ll realize they’re right, drop everything, and take a nap right away? This observation is almost always followed up with, “Why are you in a bad mood?” Gee, I wonder…
When I see pictures of myself now, my eyes are happy but they’re beyond droopy. I see the same thing in my hubby’s eyes, but he’s not battling the dark rings that I am. It’s probably because he gets to sleep through her 3 am wake-ups. Lucky bastard! He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to figure out a way for him to breastfeed number two, whether it’s taking hormones or what! That way maybe I won’t have to glop on so much concealer to cover up my racoon mask! And in the meantime, maybe I’ll have to buy those wonderous highlighter pencils…in bulk.
B.B. (before baby) my memory was a steel trap! You could’ve asked me anything…the name of my kindergarten teacher? Mrs. Zirm. Who wrote the poem The Wasteland? T.S. Eliot. The Italian city where St. Francis was from? Piece of cake…Assisi. But these days: 6 months A.B. (after baby) I’m lucky if I can remember my own name. I’ll be mid-story and completely forget what point I was trying to make. I understand this happens to people all the time, but this never used to happen to me. It’s weird and frightening. It makes me worry how I’ll be in five years.
One of my mom’s favorite phrases to me over the years was, “You just wait.” I used to (and still do) tease her about all of her wacky ways and this would always be her comeback. She was referring to me waiting until the day I had children thus rendering me a brain-dead stressed-out sleep-deprived lunatic. Well, of course she was right. My day has come! My brain barely functions yet the baby is thriving so I must be doing something right.
Sometimes I have a moment of clarity and can get an answer to a Jeopardy question, but most of the time the only thing I can think is, “I would’ve gotten all these answers before.” But really Jeopardy answers don’t matter because there is no time to be sitting around watching TV anymore when there’s a baby who needs feeding, changing, and a reading to. I miss my DVR almost as much as I miss my sleep!