Sleep deprivation

I know that what appears to be one of life's cruel tricks is sometimes actually a blessing in disguise. In the throes of sleep deprivation after I first had Jimmy, I realized that pregnancy related insomnia (and having to get up and use the bathroom a half-dozen times in the course of a night) was actually a providential preparation that conditioned me to be able to quickly fall asleep again after getting up for a 2 a.m. feeding.

So, intellectually I know that, but the prosaic reality of it is challenging at the moment. Sometime after 3:30 this morning, I woke up and couldn't fall asleep again. I tossed and turned for almost an hour as my sinuses drained and then got congested again; I made a pilgrimage to the bathroom, tossed and turned for a few more minutes, and finally gave up. It's been a week since I've gotten up early to swim laps at the public pool before Jim goes to work. My regular exercise buddy, Debbie, is on hiatus from our pre-dawn workouts because her youngest daughter just had surgery last week, and I'm having a hard time getting my act together without knowing that she'll be waiting outside my front door for me at 5:45 a.m.

So I went to bed early last night with high hopes of getting back in the swim, only to be confronted by the demon of insomnia. At 4:30 I got up, pried my eyes open, popped in my contacts, and crept downstairs with my swim gear. I ate a banana, camped out in front of the computer until 5:15, then got dressed and headed to the pool. After 35 minutes of swimming laps, I headed home feeling invigorated. Perhaps I could make it through the morning after all! Before Jim came downstairs to leave for work, I had already had breakfast, checked out the weekly grocery specials on the internet, made my shopping list, and started to get caught up on my emails.

Shortly after Jim left, Jimmy came downstairs, still groggy and wanting to cuddle on the couch. Once he ate breakfast, we headed upstairs to get dressed. Sometime when I wasn't looking, he must have slipped on his cranky pants; suddenly, he was contrary and belligerent. Despite the lack of sleep, I was feeling magnanimous and patient, and I told him that if he could use his nice voice and good manners for the rest of the morning, I would take him to the park when we were done at the grocery store. He tried. He really did.

We stopped at home to put away the groceries, and as I was bending down to put yogurt in the refrigerator, the fatigue hit me like a wave. I told Jimmy we would leave soon, but that Mom needed to put her feet up for a few minutes to rest. An hour later, poor Jimmy nudged me awake: "Mom, are we going to the park yet?" By that time, it was almost noon, so I told him that we would go to the park after lunch. Not satisfied with this scenario, Jimmy returned to his cranky ways. I was still feeling bleary-eyed and I knew that if I didn't eat something, I would lose my patience, fast. So I chose to do the superficially selfish thing and ate my own lunch first, knowing that it would allow me to cope better with his needs in the long run.

And now that Jimmy is done with his cheese sandwich, I'd better do what is best for both of us, wrap this up, and get to the park! Because then I can come home, pop The Aristocats in the DVD player, and crash out on the couch with Jimmy while he watches O'Malley the Alley Cat romancing Duchess. We all have to have something to look forward to, right?