Just Say No to Drugs

As my Little Dearest is no closer to sleeping through the night than she was 8 months ago, I live my life permanently sleep deprived. When I say that I mean Sleep-Deprived-Like-I-Never-Knew-In-College-Walking-Zombie-Displaying-Alzheimer's-Symptoms Tired. All moms can identify with this to varying degrees. If you are the One who's children have all slept through the night since 1 week of age then please don't let me know; I am not virtuous enough not to spit at the mention of your name forever or try my hand at Voodoo. If you have 7 children sleeping in your bed and have not experienced REM since you were 15, then you are welcome to stop in for a chat. We might be on the same intellectual level and carry on a meaningful conversation over coffee pots while we try to find our brains.

Many people understand that I am dramatizing. But what fun would it be if I was not? Then again, do you really know for sure that I am? I am not sure some days whether I vacuumed my floors or if Bella is just getting really good at finding crumbs.

On the weekends Patrick is really amazingly wonderful at helping out. I have 2 nights that he gets up with Isabella and maintains the "ferberizing" until it is time for her to eat. This past weekend, however, we established the 11th Commandment: No NyQuil On Weekends.

The first time she wakes up it is very shortly after we've gone to bed and Patrick goes to talk/reassure and comes back and promptly falls asleep. The next time she woke up, however, the NyQuil had kicked in. I go in, knowing he's tired, but can't find the *#$% pacifier.

"Honey, Pat! "
..."mph"
"Did she have the pacifier in bed with her?" (I want to find it and hand it to her quickly and resume process, or at least know that it was missing and she would deal without it.)
Patrick sits upright and whines loudly and agitatedly "I have been up with her every 10 minutes for the past hour and I'm just tired and can't think" and starts to schlump out of the room.
me: "WHAT??? No, this is the first time she's woken up since you went in the one time!"

He brushes past me, walks into Bella's room, TURNS ON THE LIGHT, GRABS the PACIFIER, and WITHOUT a WORD TO HER comes back out and HANDS THE PACIFIER TO ME. ... ... ?huh?

So now I have a ticked and delusional husband, a screaming wide-awake infant, and a pacifier in MY hand. and it's 1:30am. Okay, get a good picture of a dramatic teenage girl in your mind - Patrick stalks downstairs grumbling that he can't sleep with all the noise. I may not have been so gentle when I said I could only handle one child at night and he just didn't rank.

Fast-forward past an hour of Isabella crying, and Patrick and I are both back in bed, him still mumbling incoherently. Patrick had very little recollection of this the following morning, which I think is good. You must realize that what made this story so very amusing, is this behavior was VERY out-of-character for my overly logical, level-headed, and patient husband.

So next weekend my poor, hard-working, self-sacrificing husband has to find a better solution to an overnight cough, and I have to remember that "a little dopey" is not its side-effect on him.

Story reprinted with express permission of involved parties.