All recently new moms and dads have said to me “sleep now while you can.” They chuckle knowingly and I can see the pity in their eyes as they’re thinking “you’re in for it, lady.” I have taken these comments to heart, given the state of partial fatigue that my body constantly feels. As you know, I am devoted to my naps and I sleep in as much as possible, allowing my fine husband to bring me coffee in bed.
My love affair with sleep, however, is turning sour. Somehow we’re just not communicating like we used to. The honeymoon is over. The sparks are gone. The shape of my body does not allow me to recline comfortably in ANY position. I must get out of bed to urinate at least twice during the night. My frigging dog does not make it any easier, often waking me just before dawn when it seemed like I just fell asleep, finally. The cat, always the joiner, pipes in with her whining as well. For some reason my husband can sleep through the zoo noises, leaving me stewing in my own bleary-eyed frustration.
Last night was pretty bad. I went to bed around midnight – yes, very unusual, but I had gone out to the movies with my friend Lisa. We saw “Sideways,” and frankly, I don’t get it – 2 hours of watching depressing, mealy-mouthed, paunchy Paul Giamatti should have put me to sleep right there. So, it’s midnight, and I finally get to bed, and I don’t think I actually slept for 20 consecutive minutes all night long, and the dog started her thing at 5:30 AM.
I tried to go back to sleep after Stewart got up to deal with the animals, but that was not happening. So I got up, had some breakfast, discovered that I was in a colossally bad mood and still very tired, and went back to bed. We just recently moved a TV and DVD player into the bedroom (what with all the remodeling and stuff) so I watched 2 episodes of the Simpsons from season 1 and I actually did fall asleep.
Stewart had taken the dog out for a hike so the house was very quiet. Around 10:30 they got back, and he put the dog in the yard. I remember dreamily waking enough to register the noise, then drifting back to sleep, until…the dog’s shrieking barks woke me up again. I laid there, hoping she would realize that nobody was coming to let her in. The barking continued, and I seethed with rage. I finally bolted out of bed, catapulted myself to the back door, and screamed at the dog to SHUT UP ALREADY. Then I collapsed into hysterics and hurled myself back to bed. I think I finally cried myself to sleep again around noon.
This is what it’s like to “sleep while you can.”
In conclusion, I need at least one of the following:
-drugs
-to get to bed earlier
-to seal my dog’s mouth shut with duct tape
-to deliver the baby so I can sleep on my stomach again
The only option that is both humane and possible at this point is option number 2. Thus begins the mandated bedtime project. I’ll let you know how it goes.
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