Clearly I Need Some Sleep

Ever root through your draft posts and read some of he forgotten? I have more than a few posts which I’ve started and only completed a sentence, a paragraph, a jumble of words which are completely incoherent. Some are embarrassing; some enlightening and some, maybe even offensive to some.

Over the past year there have been quite a few with the same theme.

The lack of sleep.

I haven’t slept in the same bed as my husband for a better part of the past 7 months.

Yes, seriously.

Hudson and I sleep in the nursery. I’ve laid out the spare bed in there and more often than not, sleep with him there.

I hate talking about it because either it jinxes everything and things go from bad to worse or I feel guilty for blabbering about it. Again.

Fucksakes, is she really talking about her kid not sleeping?  AGAIN? We get it. The damn kid doesn’t sleep.

Trust me. That’s how I feel.

Justshutthefuckupalready.

Not that I’d ever admit that I say that to him.

I’ve begged, pleaded and cried. I’ve even tried to reason with him by having an adult conversation.

I know, right?

So, please. Would you tell me why you refuse to sleep in your crib at night? What can I do to make this more pleasurable for you? What can I do to make you more comfortable? Is there something that I’m forgetting?

Just so you know, that doesn’t work either.

I get nowhere reasoning with the baby so I post and save stuff like this…

It’s been a nightmare trying to get Hudson to sleep at night.

Nothing like stating the obvious. It’s a true gift. I has it.

Coming up on midnight I’m still sitting here on the couch. I should be sleeping, but I’ve been informed I am not welcome to go to bed until Mike is asleep. Why? Because Hudson will not sleep. Let me rephrase that: Hudson will not sleep unless a part of him is touching a part of me. Srsly.

See: Stage Five Clingerâ„¢ & The Hot Fuzzâ„¢

Sometimes he still won’t sleep unless we’re touching.

Mike doesn’t care about when I go to bed, because well, I got to bed in another room. Duh.

Sitting in the dark I felt the horrible urge surmount as it has in the past. The longing for sleep; uninterrupted sleep has begun to cloud my thoughts. Reality is blurred and I find myself in a constant dreamland.

For a short instance, I felt the urge to shake the baby, put him in his crib and just leave.

Cloaked by darkness a single tear rolls down my cheek as my innocent baby nestles into my chest and dozes off. Seemingly only able to sleep sound as he’s cradled in my arms; I am awake while the house is eerily quite. I can hear the faint snore from the bedroom where Mike sleeps peacefully.

I am overcome with resentment.

Resentment which increases with each breath.

I cannot concentrate on anything other then stretching out in my bed and falling into a peaceful slumber.

Instead I have fitful moments of rest where I am unable to relax because I know I will be woken in minutes once he realizes I’ve laid him in the bassinet.

Day breaks and he’s peaceful; hoping to catch an hour of much needed rest, I lay my head down only to hear his older brother stirring in the other room.

My heart aches to be with them, always.

My body aches for sleep.

My mind aches for rest.

Oh the DRAMAZ! That must have been one of my emo nights.

Lack of sleep makes me emo.

Not the cutting kinda emo, just the “Woe Is Me” kinda emo.

Cutting wouldn’t be fun, that leads to bloody messes and scars. Not tough scars that have a story but cutter scars that make people look at you funny.

Not that I look at you funny.

Oh forget it. This is obviously going nowhere.

I’m going to bed.

Hopefully.

For a little while anyway.

Clearly this is me not talking about it, you know – in case I jinx it.

Shutthefuckupalreadywouldyou?

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Tagged as: kids, parenting, sleep, sleep deprivation, Stage Five Clinger