Can a girl go eight years without a good night’s sleep?
OK, I’m exaggerating, but I honestly feel – and when I dare take a good look under these baggy eyes of mine – look as though it’s been a good long while since I slept well.
There’s a reason they don’t tell you during your first pregnancy check-up that your sleep will be interrupted mostly every night, for the next eight to ten years.
In the beginning, of course, it’s understandable. This baby needs to eat, after all, and poop and cry and be too hot or too cold or too cranky to sleep. But then you get through that, and the baby (OK, he’s two!) is sleeping (sort of) through the night except for you needing to lay in his bed for a long time to get him to sleep in the first place (who needs sleep training, you say!) whereupon you wake up at some point (after your favorite show is long over!) with a crick in your neck and a promise to yourself that tomorrow night you will say a firm good night from the doorway.
And then, you have another baby.
Fast forward five years and you have me. This morning, at 4:30 am, I unfurled myself from a snoring five-year old (who had crawled in at some point unannounced) and a scratchy cat. My husband was breathing somewhat loudly. Our almost ten-year old dog on the floor kept making heaving sounds with her arthritic self, wondering what the heck was wrong with us all and why couldn’t we keep it down.
I know this will be like everything with raising young kids – just when you think this is your world, it changes on you. One day, I will be well-rested, bag-free – but I will miss falling asleep rubbing the back of my eight-year old, I will miss my five-year old telling me sleepily how much he loves me, how much he loves Superman.
Perhaps sleep is overrated.