Posts Tagged ‘tired’

The Only Thing I Want to See at 5 am is the Inside of my Eyelids

Thursday, May 31st, 2012

Things I Have Tried To Get My Three Year Old To Sleep Later:

Shortened naps

Dropping naps

Feeding him more before bed

Feeding him less before bed

Letting him stay up later

Putting him to bed earlier

Telling him he can’t get up until the sun is up (but the damn sun comes up at 5:30)

Blackout shades

Doing LOTS AND LOTS of walking, playing, and running all day so he can barely keep his eyes open by 5 pm

….and right now as I type this he is totally passed out on the couch. It’s 11:50am. I heard from a couple people on Twitter that melatonin supplements can help with wacky sleep schedules but Dr. Google is split about 50-50 on whether or not that’s a good idea (WebMD votes no, LiveStrong and MayoClinic vote yes with caution). I should talk to the pediatrician before trying it, but I feel like an idiot calling and saying “I’m not disciplined to go to bed before midnight so I’m REALLY TIRED when my kid wakes up at 5 so how about them pills?”

But like any parent will tell you, having a kid who isn’t getting enough sleep is way more than just being a tired parent. He’s grumpy and emotional and irritable and has trouble controlling his impulses and can’t make up his mind so he refuses thing he actually wants and then cries because he doesn’t have them.

I feel sort of like a jerk complaining at all since on the scale of sleep problems this is not actually that bad. Even on his WORST nights he only gets up once or twice to ask for a drink and goes right back to bed. It’s the cumulative effect of not getting enough sleep enough days in a row that’s driving me bonkers.

Here’s my idea: everyone say “IT’S JUST A PHASE”. Because, yeah, but it will make me feel better.

Don’t Wanna

Tuesday, September 20th, 2011

Diagnose me, interwebs. I need you to tell me I’m normal. Or maybe just a quick kick in the ass and someone to drag me out of this giant hole of ennui and laziness I’ve fallen into. I don’t really feel like doing anything anymore. And I really mean anything. Getting dressed is boring. Going to Stroller Strides is too much work. Taking the kids to the grocery store is exhausting. Washing my hair is pointless. My diet plan sucks. Talking to people is hard. It’s too hot. It’s too cold. I don’t wanna and this couch is so comfortable and no one actually cares if I get off it.

As a stay at home mom, I have the option to just…stay home. And lately that sounds more and more appealing.

I can complain about being So Busy with the best of them – “Oh yes! I’m So Busy! I’m on a diet and exercise plan, plus I’m really into making soup from scratch these days. And the blog! People are counting on me to…write stuff!” – but really? Besides providing basic food stuffs and making sure the laundry piles don’t get too high (and you know, keeping two children alive) I have no mandatory activities. So when I’m exhausted and in bed at 9 pm it’s my own doing. I’m not busy. I MAKE myself busy to make myself feel more important.

(Insert paragraph about how raising human beings IS important! I am creating loving, kind, functional adults who might cure cancer or fly to Mars or invent calorie-free dark chocolate! Now insert massive eye roll because all I’m actually doing these days is wiping butts and filling sippy cups.)

Lately, when we’re on our way to somewhere I start fantasizing about how I could just NOT. I can seeeeeeee us, all NOT DOING THINGS, and we are are enjoying it. I can feel my desire to be still and quiet pulling on me, whispering in my ear that my kids are too young to even remember these places so why bother? For the blog pictures? That’s stupid.

I’ve given in to my laziness a few times over the last few weeks and it is kind of fantastic. Kid’s TV for the toddler, stretchy pants and a Diet Coke for me, grapes and a teether toy for Caroline and we can all do nothing until E gets home from work. But it makes me sort of nervous because there is a fine, well walked line between taking a few days off from regular life and becoming a shut in whose kids no longer know how to interact with the general public. How deep can I let my hole get?

Also, my desire not to do stuff has also started creeping into stuff that’s slightly less optional, like dinner and laundry. How about pizza for dinner? Why put these clothes away when they’re just going to get dirty? Who cares if the half of the house we don’t use is a mess? None of the other people who live here seem to. And then a teeny tiny thought that says Why don’t you just not get up with the baby? You can let your husband do it. You can just stay in bed. He would HAVE to deal with it eventually. It only takes a few seconds for me to shake it off, but the idea showing up in my head at all is like having your grandma show up in your sexy dream about George Clooney. That’s weird, Grandma. Go away.

I’m afraid it’s only going to get worse, since the colder weather means fewer places to go (mall, aquarium, children’s museum, mall, aquarium, lather rinse repeat) and bundling up two kids is about as much fun as bundling up two rabid badgers. And when it’s snowing, staying home is allowed – encouraged, even! – so the people I see on a regular basis won’t even start to wonder where I am. Which might be nice for a while, since I can’t seem to hold a normal conversation without talking about my toddler’s potty training efforts or my baby’s habit of biting my nipples and NOBODY wants that mom at their party.

The irony of all these words is that I didn’t explain myself very well, but because I am so filled with ennui I can’t be bothered to explain any better, which might actually be the perfect example of what I meant in the first place.

Hit by the pregnancy symptom truck

Thursday, August 19th, 2010

Remember how a couple weeks ago I was all “This pregnancy is so easy! Most days I barely remember I’m even pregnant! I can’t wait to me MORE pregnant!”

Yeah, that was stupid. I am DEFINITELY pregnant. I could star in my own made for TV movie called Mega-Pregnant Woman Versus Giant Bottle of Tums and I wouldn’t even need a stunt double.

My feet hurt. I’m exhausted, even with a daily nap. I am irritated by totally irrational things and want to scream at random strangers. My clothes don’t fit. I can’t bend over in the middle. Everything from crackers to fruit to water gives me heartburn. I’m being regularly kicked in the bladder and I pee a little every time I laugh, jump or sneeze. I never sleep through the night. I’m always hot. My boobs are huge and sore (and here’s a new one: I have breast tissue that extends back into my armpit so even my underarms are painful). I keep getting giant crater sized pimples I’m afraid Baby Evan might get sucked into and disappear forever. And to top it all off, I STILL have morning sickness in the mornings – I get out of bed, I throw up for about 10 minutes, then I start my day. Every. Day.

As of my appointment this morning I am up 19 pounds and got a Talking To about adding more exercise to my routine, which is ridiculous because a) I chase a toddler all day b) I’m still going to Stroller Strides at least 3 times a week and c) I CHASE A TODDLER ALL DAY. Yes I know I’ll have to lose all this weight again, thanks for the breaking news. I know I’ve had this discussion on the internet before but I wish there was a way to just not even mention weight or weight gain in pregnancy at all until it became an actual health issue. My blood pressure is good, the baby is good, shut the eff up. I have the sudden urge to yell “LEAVE THE PREGNANT WOMEN ALOOOOOOOONE!!!!111!!!!!11!” but I’m too tired to actually yell at anything.

I think the only thing more exhausting than thinking about 19 more weeks of this is imagining life with a toddler AND a newborn.

I’m gonna go lie down.



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