Right now, things are quiet in my house. And it's pretty darn eerie.
Milo and Violet are munching on a snack of Frosted Flakes and the babies are napping -- one in the swing and one hanging in the Intellitainer (a non-rocking Exersaucer). I'm not sure why she's comfy like that, but I'm just gonna go with it for now.
And I am a zombie. A complete and total useless waste of flesh today. I can't stay awake long enough to feed a baby or pump -- just the act of sitting still is enough to knock me out today.
Why?
Night times are just plain brutal.
We're both on call for most of the night -- it takes both of us to feed the babes and I'm not exaggerating this one. I can't imagine how single parents do this...
Milo wasn't too bad at night. Once we decided not to breastfeed him, we were able to split his nighttime feedings. I'd take the early one and Scott the later one and we'd both only have to be awake once at night,
With Violet, I nursed her mostly in my sleep. All night long, yes, but I was asleep in a chair so I barely noticed.
But this time? It's just monumental. For the most part, the girls are still on a 3 hour rotation. So we feed them at about 9, taking about 40 minutes. Then we put them to bed. Scott does the getting them to sleep part while I pump. Then I wash bottles and start the load of diapers, get ready for bed and take a shower since I've discovered that I really don't have time to shower in the morning before work. I get to bed around 11:00.
One hour of sleep.
The girls wake at 12ish for their next feeding, again taking about 40 minutes. Then I pump, run the diapers through the hot wash, wash bottles and come back to bed around 1:30 - 1:45.
One hour and fifteen minutes to one and a half hours of sleep.
The girls wake at 3ish for their next feeding, again taking about 40 minutes. Then I pump, put the diapers in the dryer, wash bottles and come back to bed around 4:30 - 4:45.
One hour and fifteen minutes to one and a half hours of sleep.
The girls wake at 6ish for their next feeding, again taking about 40 minutes. Then I pump, make my coffee and breakfast and get ready for the day.
Now some days we get an extra half an hour to an hour of sleep between one of the feedings, but never between more than one. So that means on the best day where we get an extra hour and my housework takes less time than expected, I will get 5 hours of sleep. On a normal day it's closer to three and a half hours.
Could I go to bed right after the 9 o'clock feeding? Not really -- Milo and Violet are rarely settled by then and some nights we're eating after a t-ball game or at the pool or visiting Grandma and Grandpa and time slips away so very quickly. And now that I'm back to work I can't go back to sleep after the 6 o'clock feeding. I had been able to do that until last week and Scott still does (lucky bastard).
And weekends? Well, because I'm generally still up at 7 o'clock after pumping and washing bottles, I nearly always greet one or two of the walking children on the way down the stairs as I head back up to join Scott for another hour of sleep, so no chance for more sleep once they're awake. I've gone so far as to try and convince them that I am completely capable of snuggling them on the couch while I'm sound asleep. It's true, you know... But they don't buy it and start talking to me anyway, frequently pleading "Mommy! Open your eyes!"
Well, Mommy doesn't want to open her eyes. Mommy needs a darn nap! But that's not really going to happen, either, because as soon as Mommy gets home from work, Daddy heads out to the garden or to his parents to mow or to a meeting or to care for the chickens. And Mommy doesn't get a chance to deliberately close her eyes.
I just wish for one day where all I did was nurse, feed, and pump then roll over and go back to sleep. But that would require another adult to assist Scott and if there's another adult around, he's back out to work on out poor overgrown garden, to mow, or to meet with people and I get suckered back into the fray no matter what.
I seriously don't know why it isn't standard issue for moms of infant multiples to get free maid/cook/garden service. If I ruled the world, that is what would happen.
In the mean time, I'll just watch the rest of my family sleep as I play dairy cow, dishwasher, and diaper service. Or, in other words, Mom.
Showing posts with label sleep. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sleep. Show all posts
Friday, June 17, 2011
Monday, November 22, 2010
The Night that Never Was
Some days it just doesn't pay to even try to go to bed.
Last night was one of those loooong, never-ending nights. First of all, it is not good for me to watch episodes of "The Walking Dead" and "Dexter" before I try to sleep. Not good at all. I'm not a scaredy-cat or a weenie, but the tension in these shows makes it darn near impossible for me to shut off my brain. So, yeah, bad choice on my part. Well, OK, I wouldn't have even watched the zombies if it wasn't for the horror-lovin' man I married, so that one is his fault.
And then there was the thunderstorm. Yep, you read correctly. A thunderstorm on November 21. In Iowa. Sigh... Ever since we moved out into the country, Tess has developed a fear of storms. I don't know if it's because they're louder or brighter or windier, but she'll lay at the bottom of the steps whining. If someone doesn't respond to her, she escalates to moaning. Then to yipping. And, finally, to barking. Which is the point that I fly out of bed, cursing and grumbling down the stairs to sleep on the couch.
Normally, this would be where the story would end -- with me sleeping the rest of the night on the couch, trading a c-pap wearing hubby for snoring, farting dogs. Normally.
But not last night. Nope. At 3 a.m. my darling princess starts crying in her sleep. I gave her a moment or two to see if she would settle, but she didn't. That meant I also gave daddy a moment or two to wake up and realize what was going on, which, thanks to Mr. Ambien, he did not. So I stumbled back up the stairs to comfort her and help her not tip into the toilet when she fell back asleep going potty. Daddy and I met each other at her bedroom door, him looking confused and me looking like one of The Walking Dead.
No more thunder (or so I thought) and I go back to sleep in my bed. Again, thanks to Mr. Ambien, daddy is out in mere seconds while I try to position the pillows around the rapidly growing belly for minimum discomfort. I drift off to sleep...
Until 4:45 a.m. when a second round of storms go through and I end up stumbling BACK down the steps to quiet the dog before she wakes the rest of the house. I conk out on the couch when click! the table lamp on the timer clicks on to start the day. Only it's an hour early because I have forgotten to reset the time with the conclusion of Daylight Savings Time.
I.
give.
up.
Uncle! Uncle! Uncle!
Last night was one of those loooong, never-ending nights. First of all, it is not good for me to watch episodes of "The Walking Dead" and "Dexter" before I try to sleep. Not good at all. I'm not a scaredy-cat or a weenie, but the tension in these shows makes it darn near impossible for me to shut off my brain. So, yeah, bad choice on my part. Well, OK, I wouldn't have even watched the zombies if it wasn't for the horror-lovin' man I married, so that one is his fault.
And then there was the thunderstorm. Yep, you read correctly. A thunderstorm on November 21. In Iowa. Sigh... Ever since we moved out into the country, Tess has developed a fear of storms. I don't know if it's because they're louder or brighter or windier, but she'll lay at the bottom of the steps whining. If someone doesn't respond to her, she escalates to moaning. Then to yipping. And, finally, to barking. Which is the point that I fly out of bed, cursing and grumbling down the stairs to sleep on the couch.
Normally, this would be where the story would end -- with me sleeping the rest of the night on the couch, trading a c-pap wearing hubby for snoring, farting dogs. Normally.
But not last night. Nope. At 3 a.m. my darling princess starts crying in her sleep. I gave her a moment or two to see if she would settle, but she didn't. That meant I also gave daddy a moment or two to wake up and realize what was going on, which, thanks to Mr. Ambien, he did not. So I stumbled back up the stairs to comfort her and help her not tip into the toilet when she fell back asleep going potty. Daddy and I met each other at her bedroom door, him looking confused and me looking like one of The Walking Dead.
No more thunder (or so I thought) and I go back to sleep in my bed. Again, thanks to Mr. Ambien, daddy is out in mere seconds while I try to position the pillows around the rapidly growing belly for minimum discomfort. I drift off to sleep...
Until 4:45 a.m. when a second round of storms go through and I end up stumbling BACK down the steps to quiet the dog before she wakes the rest of the house. I conk out on the couch when click! the table lamp on the timer clicks on to start the day. Only it's an hour early because I have forgotten to reset the time with the conclusion of Daylight Savings Time.
I.
give.
up.
Uncle! Uncle! Uncle!
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
A Revolutionary Cries: Down with Summer!!
Some things are just plain unfair. Like rain-on-my-parade unfair. Like the-green-with-envy-Grinch unfair. Like...
Being the first one awake each and every morning. We all know that I am the one to attend to the dogs first thing in the morning because I am the only adult in the house who can a) hear them bark and b) wake up with enough coordination to make it down the stairs safely at 5:45 a.m. This is nothing new for me -- for the last 14 years I have headed into work by 8 AM. I don't really have an issue with getting up early.
Except when it is following a late evening. And, since it is summer time and my children and husband have the luxury of sleeping until whenever they want the next morning, our evening activities and bedtimes have been pushing later and later into the night. When we go to the pool in the evening, we don't even get home until 8:15, by the time the kids have a snack and get to bed, we're pushing 9:15 -- especially since my newly-confident (read: extra sassy) son protests, "We can't go to bed yet -- the moon isn't even up!"
After getting the wee ones to bed, Scott and I generally snuggle up next to each other with a popcorny snack and watch something we've Netflixed or can stream through the Wii. Yes, in addition to some really goofy stuff, you can stream some good stuff. Or, in his case, every bad horror movie known to zombiehood.
Then you add in the whole still-trying-to-conceive business and I'm not getting to sleep until midnight. On a work night, oh the horror! You see, I have lulled myself into believing that I can function well on almost six hours of sleep a night. I'm only working 4-hour days right now, right?
In theory, that sounds like it should work. But those four hours are only my office time, I'm not fooling anyone by saying those are the only hours I work. I work all dang day! There's the never-ending laundry pile, daily vacuuming of dog fur, cooking, cleaning, kid-raising... I can't do this on a mere six hours of sleep!
I am a cranky mama lately, impatient and short-tempered. I yawn all day and nod off when sitting still for too long. I yearn for a nap... I think I *might* be able to blame it on the Clomid, but that's a stretch. The real culprit is summer. Viva la school year!!!
Being the first one awake each and every morning. We all know that I am the one to attend to the dogs first thing in the morning because I am the only adult in the house who can a) hear them bark and b) wake up with enough coordination to make it down the stairs safely at 5:45 a.m. This is nothing new for me -- for the last 14 years I have headed into work by 8 AM. I don't really have an issue with getting up early.
Except when it is following a late evening. And, since it is summer time and my children and husband have the luxury of sleeping until whenever they want the next morning, our evening activities and bedtimes have been pushing later and later into the night. When we go to the pool in the evening, we don't even get home until 8:15, by the time the kids have a snack and get to bed, we're pushing 9:15 -- especially since my newly-confident (read: extra sassy) son protests, "We can't go to bed yet -- the moon isn't even up!"
After getting the wee ones to bed, Scott and I generally snuggle up next to each other with a popcorny snack and watch something we've Netflixed or can stream through the Wii. Yes, in addition to some really goofy stuff, you can stream some good stuff. Or, in his case, every bad horror movie known to zombiehood.
Then you add in the whole still-trying-to-conceive business and I'm not getting to sleep until midnight. On a work night, oh the horror! You see, I have lulled myself into believing that I can function well on almost six hours of sleep a night. I'm only working 4-hour days right now, right?
In theory, that sounds like it should work. But those four hours are only my office time, I'm not fooling anyone by saying those are the only hours I work. I work all dang day! There's the never-ending laundry pile, daily vacuuming of dog fur, cooking, cleaning, kid-raising... I can't do this on a mere six hours of sleep!
I am a cranky mama lately, impatient and short-tempered. I yawn all day and nod off when sitting still for too long. I yearn for a nap... I think I *might* be able to blame it on the Clomid, but that's a stretch. The real culprit is summer. Viva la school year!!!
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