I’m so tired. Monkey has started flipping over onto his tummy at night and during naps. I’m not sure if it’s on purpose or accident, in his sleep or while playing, but he’s a very pissed little Monkey once he gets there. He knows how to flip back, but for some reason cries for someone else to rescue him. A few nights ago Hubby went in to flip him back over twice, followed each time by Monkey flipping back onto his tummy. We finally let him cry it out, which sucked royally for all of us.
To further aggravate the effects of fragmented sleep, Monkey has had three ear infections in three months. Hubby and I hear so much of a sniffle from Monkey, and we start counting the days until he turns into a pathetic ball of misery. Hopefully the summer months will help. Hopefully tubes will help. Hopefully something will help. Until it gets better, though, Hubby and I are playing the trade-off game with doctor appointments, work, and caring for a sometimes too-sick-for-daycare Monkey at home.
At the lab I’m exhausted. I get distracted, forget what I’m doing, lose track of time. As a result, my science is moving forward at a snail’s pace. I’m trying to get preliminary data for grants, write up letters of intent, find new funding sources, and interact with/train grad students. But things are falling through the cracks – usually meetings and seminars, but sometimes experiments as well – and I feel like I’m becoming a bit of a dead weight.
I thought the sleep would be better by now, and it was for a while. But right now I’m reminded of a comment JLK left on my blog a few months back:
Oh, Dr. O. How I wish I could tell you it was only the first few months. My son is 7 months old and I just said to my husband the other night as we dragged our sorry asses into bed, “You know? Sometimes I really miss not having a baby.”
The following night my husband said “I love him, but as of right now I changed my mind – I don’t think I want any more kids.”
See, the thing about the older babies is they get into a routine and you breathe a sigh of relief. “Aaaahhh…..predictability. THIS is nice.” And then just as you get comfortable with that routine, BLAM! They fuck with you and start doing things all backwards and opposite and screwed up.
Like going from sleeping 9 hours at night every night to waking up every 2 hours for no. apparent. goddamn. reason.
Or going on a nap strike.
Or one day after you thought the spit-up finally started to slow down, they puke on you every single goddamn time you pick them up.
Yes, they get cuter with their laughs and smiles and coos and you will find your heartstrings firmly attached to their little tushies. That’s because evolution did its job so you wouldn’t give your child away to the pygmies.
It’s been a while since I was in search of a nice pygmy family. Things might be rough right now, but the current sleep deprivation isn’t anywhere as bad as it was those first few weeks. Monkey is also waaaay cuter and more fun than he used to be, and his development, laughs and smiles tend to have an amnesic effect on the tears, frustrations, and exhaustion. Like the former woes of new motherhood, this stage too shall pass, and I’ll eventually get a little more sleep.
Until then, I’m adjusting to a new level of lab productivity, bordering on the edge of remedial mad science. And I’m looking forward to the day when I figure out how to function as a zombie researcher.