I've been tired lately.
Since about August, in fact. And, no. This is not an announcement regarding my uterus. My goodness, people.
August is when Claire became an insomniac. At least, according to this definition.
She wakes up in the middle of the night about 4 times a week. She usually wakes up between 2 and 4am. Sometimes she asks to watch a movie. Usually "Baby Signing Time." (She's addicted.) Sometimes she wants cereal.
I used to give in to her midnight demands because after getting her what she wanted, sometimes she'd go back to sleep. And then I got to go back to sleep.
But then sometimes she wouldn't. And I wouldn't. And then we'd be up all day. Tired. And grumpy.
The thing is, I have sleeping issues already. Even without catering to an infant insomniac. Perhaps you remember this. Or this? Or maybe this.
I need sleep.
So this week I started not giving in. Because giving in doesn't appear to be solving the problem.
The other night she came into our room (as usual), climbed on our bed and said, "Sump-ing to EEEeat, Mommy."
I tried my new tactic. "Claire, sweetie. See out the window? See how it's dark outside? We have to wait for morning when the sun comes up."
For good measure, I signed "sun," wrapped her in my arms, and closed my eyes bidding sleep to return.
"No, Mommy, no!" She whimpered. "EEEEeat!" More whimpering. I tried to quiet her to keep her from waking Daddy. She finally succumbed to a blissful silence.
A blissful silence of five or ten minutes.
Then we repeated our dialogue.
In fact, we repeated it every ten minutes for two hours.
Last night I got an extra bonus when Claire whined long enough to partially rouse Brad. He started reciting math equations. Something about derivatives. And x. And exponents.
I'm so tired.
Wish I could recover like she does.
But I can't. Because while I sleep the monsters come, possess my children's bodies, and trash the house.
Also, yes. That is a TV screen against her face. I realize it is possibly causing irreparable damage to her brain. I turned it off. Promise.