My best made plans can be found on my pillow

My best made plans can be found on my pillow

Somehow my baby turned 8 months today. Time really flies. Like, seriously.

Sleep still eludes me. The baby has been waking up numerous times a night for months, like a repeat of his older brother. Speaking of, my three year old has been waking up once during the night most nights recently. He either demands that I come to his bed, or he climbs in with me and my husband.

For me, it’s magical chairs. Except instead of chairs, it’s bedrooms. And instead of winning by being the last person who has a chair, I’m on an infinite loop of losing sleep.

It is what it is. I’ve dealt with it much better with this child than I did with my first. I know what to expect and I know that it will eventually get better. I try not to dwell on it too much. But I wake up tired and go to sleep tired.

Even though I am physically and mentally exhausted at the end of the day, I try to stay awake for at least an hour after the kids are in bed to just have some time to myself or with my husband. This hasn’t been going well, though.

Reading books and tucking my three year old into bed does a much better job getting me sleepy than it does for him. His sleep cues have become mine. Same with the baby. The sound machine that we’ve used to lull him to sleep since he was a newborn has the same effect on me when I stumble to his room during the night. I have to keep my mind focused on something to keep me from nodding off in the rocking chair.

I wish I wasn’t so tired. I have so many things I want to do. I am in the process of editing a book and writing for a freelance client, on top of my full-time job. These side gigs can really only take place in the evenings and weekends when I can squeeze in some free time.

I had the best of intentions last night to stay up and get some work done after the kids were asleep. I made myself decaf coffee hoping any tiny grain of caffeine it contained would keep my up for a bit.

I laid down in my toddler’s bed to read to him and the next thing I know, my eyes pop open at 10:00 at night and I am groggy. Dammit! I shuffle into our bedroom, complaining to my husband how I really wanted to stay awake to get some work done. He told me he thought it was best to let me sleep. I seemed really tired. I always seem really tired because I always AM really tired.

Tired. Even the word makes me tired.


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