G has given me so many amazing things in his three and a half- almost four months of life, but sleep has not been included in that list. So if it's cliche and typical to whine about sleep deprivation- so be it. Maybe everybody whines about it because it effing blows. Hard.
When I was pregnant and couldn't sleep because I was the size of a small blimp, I thought I would welcome being up with a new baby. I actually said, OUTLOUD, "At least I'll have a cute baby as the reason I can't sleep." Excuse me?? I want to go back and smack myself. Yes, of course G is beyond freaking adorable, but let me tell you, it's hard to think anything is cute in the middle of the night. And not just the middle of the night, but 16 times before that and 439 times after.
On a good night lately G is up three times. On a bad night, I refuse to count. He's come a long way from when he was a newborn and up for an hour every two hours, but I still pretty much want to gouge my eyes out. I'm thinking about applying coffee topically to see if that helps the dark circles, because drinking it by the gallon certainly isn't doing anything to help!
You know what else doesn't help? Any of those damn "treasure this moment- they won't always need you like this" quotes. That's all well and good- after the fact. I doubt that many of the people writing these beautiful words about their sweet baby gazing lovingly up at them actually have an infant. And I'm sure looking back, I will miss G being so little and so precious, but that doesn't mean I don't just want some freaking sleep. In reality, being up with an infant twentyhundred times a night feels a little more like this:
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