Parenting Chronicles
Exhaustion Edition
I am utterly drained. Last night, I found myself sleeping in a king-sized bed, on a top bunk, then a twin bottom bunk, and finally on the floor beside the crib, resting my head on a Boppy pillow—all between the hours of 10 PM and 6:30 AM.
I’m so tired that my late-night pacing has left impressions on the hardwood floor. I should probably get a pedometer because, at this rate, I might burn more calories during my midnight wanderings than I do during the day. Seriously, scratch that—I definitely burn more calories with all the walking and constant breastfeeding.
I’m at such a level of fatigue that even the dog has given up sleeping in my room; he needs his beauty rest, after all. I’m so tired that I accidentally poured orange juice into my coffee one morning. And don’t even get me started on the time I squeezed tinted moisturizer onto my toothbrush.
I’m so sleep-deprived that I wore my pants inside out to Pure Barre without even realizing it until I received some strange looks from the other ladies. I had to sneak into the bathroom to fix my fashion faux pas. I searched for my keys in the freezer the other day because, believe it or not, they’ve ended up there before while I was unloading groceries.
I’m in such a daze that I took my home phone with me when I dropped the kids off at school. And after making an appointment, I hung up and promptly forgot the details—too embarrassed to call back and admit my lapse.
My five-year-old recently created a Mother’s Day project at school, and when asked about my favorite things, she said sleep and coffee. I couldn’t even remember the last time I made it through a night without getting up, but I suspect it was over two years ago.
Being a milk factory for my nine-month-old has taken its toll, and I’ve Googled “baby sleep” more than 1,000 times in the past nine months. I often rage-read comments on baby sleep forums where anonymous parents boast about their six-week-olds sleeping through the night thanks to some magical nighttime routine. Thanks for the tip, mysterious parent; I’ll be sure to try that—oh wait, I haven’t even heard of it.
It’s infuriating when I see Facebook friends celebrating their first child sleeping through the night within a couple of months. They have no idea about the curse they’ve placed on themselves and the heartache of those of us who didn’t give birth to good sleepers.
I own over a dozen sleep books, and one day, as I was racing to an appointment with three kids screaming in the back, I thought I might have sideswiped a parked car. In my panic, I returned five minutes later to find it gone and ended up confessing my potential mishap to a police officer, who simply told me to go home and take a nap. Apparently, I looked like a prime target for someone to take advantage of me in my exhausted state.
While holding the baby, I explained to the officer that I drive a minivan, and I’ve never hit anything until now—yet both sides of my car were scratched up from my frequent garage mishaps. It’s so bad that I once tried multiple times to park next to the curb on an empty street, and a construction worker witnessed my struggle. Eventually, I just drove around the corner to avoid further embarrassment. After birthing three kids, I’m convinced that parking skills are the first thing to go when fatigue sets in.
Making small talk feels impossible. I constantly stick my foot in my mouth and walk away feeling flustered. Just yesterday, my daughter’s teacher complimented her cute pink Converse and I responded, “Oh, her husband is obsessed with shoes.” What I meant to say was my husband!
I’m so worn out that even though I don’t have a sweet tooth, I find myself shoving handfuls of chocolate chips into my mouth just to survive until bedtime. I fully admit that I did this to myself. With three kids under five, the odds of at least one waking up in the middle of the night are astronomically high. If I’m up three times with the baby and twice with the toddler, that’s five times in one night. The math is simple: three kids equal zero sleep.
I understand the phrase “bone tired” all too well. I literally ache. Now I get why sleep deprivation is considered a form of torture. I am beyond exhausted—I NEED to sleep train the baby, like, yesterday!