Last night was the first night since June 26th that I slept for 7 straight hours without moving. Well, perhaps I moved, but you know what I mean. (Incidentally, don’t ever expect to get good sleep on your first trip away from your kids if you’re at a college reunion, sharing a house with 16 other people.)
I didn’t get up to pee. Nor did I get up to change Zach’s diaper, put a pacifier in his fussing mouth, or rub his back and make sure he had his blankies just how he likes them. I didn’t spend time rocking or holding him to get him to go back to sleep. I didn’t spend 2 hours dealing with one of Eliza’s night terrors that begins with screaming cries of “MOMMY COME!” And I didn’t have to take her to the bathroom (because now that she uses the potty, she doesn’t ever want to use a diaper).
Nope, last night I slept like a baby. (What a laughable phrase.) And it got me thinking about sleep in general. I find myself continuously hoping my sleep life will revert to what it was at a certain phase in my life. It’s like how you always look back and wish you could just get back to your college weight once you’re out, but when you were in college, instead of appreciating how great you looked then, you wished you weighed what you did in high school.
For example, the best, most recent phase of sleep I had was between when Eliza was 4-months-old, when she was sleeping through the night and my boobs finally let me do the same, and when she was 8-months-old, when I got pregnant and immediately began having to get up at least once to pee. I have not slept well since then. And I thought at this point, with Zach being 7-months-old, that I would be in sleep heaven. But on any night that Zach seems to make it all the way through, Eliza seems to wake. And on the nights she sleeps well, Zach inevitably wakes. Of course, there are the nights when one of them is so loud it wakes the other up as well. That’s even more fun.
What I’m coming to realize is that just like I will never weigh what I weighed in high school or college again, I will never sleep like I did in those years again either. I am realizing that I’m chasing a pipe dream of sleep. Here’s how I know: I might not remember waking my mom as an infant or a toddler. But I remember being 5- or 6-years-old and being scared of the leaves on our tree out my window that looked like the profile of a scary old man. I remember going to get her several nights, and her lying in my bed with me to help me get to sleep. I also remember when I was a teenager and my brother and I would come in from being out, and I would hear her finally relax enough to sleep tightly, knowing we were home. And now, as a grandma, she’s here visiting, and she’s up when I’m up, offering to help so I can get some sleep.
It makes me realize that by the time I’m done raising kids who keep me awake, I STILL won’t be well rested because I will have to get up to pee (like when I was pregnant), or I’ll have back pain, or Greg will be snoring much more loudly. Take your pick and fill in the blank.
So, I’m on a new mission. I complain out loud and in my head – a lot – about not getting enough sleep. Instead of letting it get to me, I’m going to be glad that once a month, I seem to get 7 straight hours of blissful wake-up-in-the-same-position-I-was-in-when-I-went-to-bed sleep. And perhaps there will be more and more of those nights. At least until Eliza starts dating. Which won’t be for a long, long time.
I can't even pee in peace 