Feeling like there’s nothing more to give

I’ve fallen into a rough patch. I know the source is lack of sleep, but I can’t seem to beat it. I think I dealt better when Quinten was younger. Or, maybe it’s the accumulation of almost 11 months of not enough sleep. He’s probably slept through the night a total of four weeks, out of almost 44. Forty weeks is a long time to go on an average of 4-6 hours of broken sleep. No wonder I feel broken. No wonder I feel like I’m going through life with my eyes half-open. It’s a wonder I haven’t picked up any bad caffeine habits. Then again, I’m too much of a rule follower to drink large amounts of caffeine while breastfeeding. Although, maybe caffeine would have a sleepy effect on Quinten…

I hate feeling this way as we go into the winter months. It’s depressing enough outside without my mind being a mess of exhaustion. I know he’ll sleep through the night some day, I just wish I knew when that was! If I knew I had one more month, I’d pull up my boot straps and make the most of it. After all, he’s only little once and babies don’t keep. Since I don’t know when he’s going to magically turn the corner and realize that sleep is awesome, I’m left trudging through the days.

It doesn’t feel like there’s enough Kyley to go around and I can’t seem to figure out that perfect mix to make sure I’m enough everywhere. Between work and home, there’s no time for me. If there is time for me, than there’s no time for home. If I give it my all and have a rock star day, the chances are slim that home will be just as awesome. It’s usually those great days that there’s some kind of meltdown at home. Parenthood is not for the weak. Parenting a three-year-old is not for the impatient. Let’s talk about patience for a second. When you sleep less hours than you spend at work and then come home to whining, well, it’s really hard to muster up the adequate level of patience needed to handle said three-year-old. Like, really hard. I don’t want to wish away my days, but sometimes bedtime is a glorious hour. Of course by that point I have nothing left to give to my day, but I can finally relax.

I try not to be a downer, but I’m having a hard time participating in society right now when I’m so exhausted. It’s really hard for me to see the positives and be sunshiny. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe someone needs to say that parenting is hard. Babies who don’t sleep are hard. Both of these things start to drag you down. They won’t completely break me, but they are doing a pretty good job at the moment. I’ll survive and eventually my baby will sleep. And if he doesn’t, I vow to never let him sleep in as a teenager. I do understand that I’ll have to make sacrifices to make that happen (my own sleep, again), but maybe at that point I won’t actually need to sleep. At some point my body will stop needing sleep, right? Oh, it doesn’t work that way, huh?

Don’t feel completely sorry for me, well actually do when you wake up fully rested. Know that I haven’t heard my alarm go off in almost 11 months. I have trained my body to ignore that sound, because I was just up two or three hours earlier. But, I have had a few chances lately to go out and have fun. Those lucky individuals who are so fortunate to be out with me have the pleasure of seeing a really fun version of me. That’s what almost 11 months of no sleep will get you. If I’m going to go out, I’M GOING OUT. If there’s no baby to feed, I’m on vacation! And so far the pain the next day has been worth it. After all, I’ve been training for almost 11 months to operate on little sleep. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a 25-pound baby in this house who likes 10 pm as his first wake-up.