You guys. I am so tired.
So very tired.
I blame it on the fact that I don’t think I’ve achieved REM sleep since my first child was born. That is almost six years people. Six years! That’s a long freaking time to be half awake.
Last night my three year old and my almost six year old took turns waking up every two hours just to torture me and also to remind me why another newborn is just not gonna happen right now.
Sometimes I think about how tired I am and I get angry.
When an Irish girl gets angry it is not pretty. Trust me. I get angry because no matter how hard I try, no matter how long my day, how busy we were, how excited I am for sleep, once my head hits the pillow at night I am just laying there waiting, expecting, knowing, that the second I give in to true deep sleep it will happen.
A child is going to climb into my bed and knee me in the gut for the rest of the night. Someone will need a drink. At least one child will develop a mystery nighttime only illness that will definitely be gone when the sun comes up but for now it is terrible and life threatening and the only thing that will heal them is for me to not sleep at all ever again. There will be a wet bed. A spontaneous bloody nose. Or a dog will vomit ON MY PILLOW.
If I go to sleep something will happen to destroy that sleep so I will just never let myself fully sleep again because then I can’t be disappointed when they literally rip my dreams away from me.
Then I glance over to the other side of the bed and I see my handsome, funny, smart, loving husband sleeping like it is truly his job and he is the employee of the freaking month.
How dare he knock me up and then get a good night’s sleep every single night for the duration of my kid’s childhood while I lay awake and do all of the worrying.
And honestly? I want to smack him. Right there in the chiseled jawline.
Who am I kidding. He would just sleep right through it.
He has always been able to sleep right through it.
One time I handed him our newborn son because I was deteriorating fast under the pressure of being a new mom, having breasts that felt like they were on fire every time that little person tried to nurse, and zero sleep. I slept hard that night. It was bliss. Then in the morning my husband informs me that he has no recollection of actually being handed the baby and he woke up in the hallway, carrying my child, not knowing how long he had been pacing in his sleep.
He was never allowed to help with the children at night ever again. For their safety and my sanity.
And so he slept. And I let him. But I didn’t like it.
I did actually try to ask him for help at night one more time with our second son. I called his name. I didn’t yell. I didn’t shake him. Just tried to wake him up gently. We lived in Hawaii at the time and our apartment had recently been invaded by enormous centipedes. When he heard me call his name something in him assumed there was a centipede crawling ON him. He jumped out of bed to save himself and RAN INTO THE WALL.
That was the end of asking him for help at night.
During the day we are a team. A task force. An unstoppable parenting duo.
Not so much.
His sleeping skills are so impressive I’ve made a list of all the incredible events he has managed to sleep through.
10 things my husband can sleep through
- A screaming newborn at 2am. No matter how long they scream, no matter how long I laid there and pretended to be asleep to see if he would wake up and get his child, he never stirred.
- Being sprayed in the face by an out of control stream of breast milk while the baby screams because he can’t latch on and I cry because I can’t remember what sleep feels like.
- Middle of the night snack and drink requests. He snores while I’m a waitress at a 24 hour diner.
- Croup attacks, puking kiddos, and growing pains.
- Getting peed on by a three year old. The kid wakes up. Mama wakes up. Daddy sleeps in the soggy sheets.
- Seventeen alarm clocks.
- Me, throwing the curtains open, and yelling that we have to leave the house in three minutes.
- Me, shaking him violently, and screaming that we have to leave the house in thirty seconds.
- Dogs barking two inches from his ear.
- Brothers fighting, biting, pinching, and kicking. On top of him. All 85 pounds of them crushing his skull. And he’ll never know.
But we all know the one thing he would wake up for. Every. Single. Time. I won’t say it here because my mother-in-law reads my blog. (Hi mom!) But you know it and I know it and that’s all that matters.
Almost seven years into marriage we have reached an understanding. He gets to sleep. He also gets to do the dishes. I’m still tired but I really hate doing dishes so we call it a deal. And we keep the peace.
#helovesme #johnnyandgingerforever #heapprovedthispost
Okay now tell me, so I know I’m not the only one, what ridiculousness does your husband sleep through?