Mazzy wakes up at 6am. If we're lucky. On particularly unfortunate mornings, she's been known to wander out of bed around 5am. Our goal, for the past 3+ years, is to get her to wake up at 6:30am. A time I previously associated only with roosters and local news affiliates from the Today Show.
The rule is that we will not turn on the television until 6:30am because we don't want to give Mazzy incentive to wake up earlier.
So you know what happens?
A half hour of SELF-INFLICTED TORTURE.
Mazzy storms our room at 6am begging for warm milk, fresh underwear and Team Umizoomi and for reasons that get harder to explain, we refuse to turn on the stupid television so we can slink back to bed. We have to actually interact with her for a half hour. Or convince her to go back to sleep. Which ends up being the same thing.
A half hour sounds like nothing to most people. But for moms, it's the difference between a functioning brain and something closer to mush.
A half hour is the difference between me hopping out of bed with a smile and me stumbling out of bed with eyes half-closed, getting my foot caught in the sheet and smashing my face into the ground.
Ever gone into a zombie-like trance on the subway and snapped out of it only after you missed your stop? Stood in the shower wondering whether you had already washed your hair? Topped off your coffee with orange juice instead of milk?
I've freaked out because I can't find my phone WHILE I AM ON THE PHONE. This has happened to me. SEVERAL TIMES. I tell the person I'm on the phone with, "Shit! I can't find my phone!" And they are like, "Oh no! Where have you looked for it?" You know why? Because the person I am on the phone with is most likely a mom as well and can't put two and two together either. In fact, earlier that morning she probably walked into a wall on her way to the bathroom and sent her child to school with an onion in his lunchbox instead of an apple.
Yesterday I almost fell asleep WHILE WALKING DOWN THE STREET. Harlow was in the carrier and I caught myself about to nod off several times. Apparently (danger aside), walking is a better opportunity for moms to sleep than riding shot gun in a car. We discovered this a few weeks ago.
Harlow, aka "the baby who does not nap", still wakes up throughout the night. More than once, I've gone in to nurse her at 2am, accidentally fallen asleep while holding her in the rocker and than woken up that way about three hours later.
You know how they say an hour nap in the middle of the day is equal to three hours of sleep at night? I think three hours of sleep in a rocker is equal to about fifteen minutes in a bed. Then you get to complain about the crick in your neck for the next two weeks.
Making my sleep deprivation even worse, Mazzy is what people call "high energy". Which is the polite way of saying "YOUR KID IS CRAZY!!!!" in case you were unaware.
So, at the moment when I get home from work, completely drained from my day, Mazzy wants to play soccer in the hallway. Or ride me like a pony. Or lift her on my feet like Superman.
My only recourse is making up games that result in lying in bed. For instance, a favorite game of mine is something I call "COMA". All you need is a doctor kit and the ability to lie motionless for hours at a time.
If you'd like to join other tired moms to wallow in our own sleep deprivation, NickMom is throwing a twitter party tonight at 10pm EST under the hashtag #SleepyMomsUnite. I'm co-hosting(!) so I hope that's motivation for at least some of you to come. If not, Energizer will be supplying prizes including a bunch of AmEx gift cards.
If you have any questions about how to join a twitter party, feel free to ask them in the comments.
I think having a twitter party about sleep deprivation at an hour when you could probably be sleeping is somewhat ironic, but I'm hoping you'll join me anyway. If you come, I promise I'll stay awake for the entire thing.
But if I start typing "Sleep deprivation sucks becauseofhjlihdnzflgnkz;flkg" you'll know what happened.