I have pouted on here plenty of times about the things you don’t hear about when people want you to get knocked up. There is, however, one of thing people lurve to talk about- how little sleep your going to get for the rest of your ever loving life. I have heard it almost as many times as people have said congratulations, or questions me about what kind of kid I am having (answer: human, girl).
Don’t get me wrong, I have been tired ever since my third trimester hit me (like a ton of sleepy, chubby bricks). In fact, I may or may not have slept for 20 hours recently, waking only long enough to eat and check my email every four hours. I think I am learning a little something about this “tired” thing. But, anyone who has ever raised themselves an infant would be completely offended by my claiming any kind of knowledge of tired.
However, I remember surviving quite swimmingly on four hours of sleep. In fact, I fondly remember burning the candle at both ends on four hours of drunk people sleep- which we all know is the worst kind of sleep a person can get. And it wasn’t even that long ago. Getting up for class with the smell of stale smoke, fries and vodka permeating not only my breath, hair and clothing, but a measurable amount of air space surrounding me. Dragging my hungover butt to class. Eating cheese filled bread sticks and sucking down my weight in espresso during class breaks. Working, studying, then off to grab drinks and dinner with friends again. The cycle repeats. Four hours was a lucky stretch sometimes.
Aren’t I just replacing the smell of cigarettes, booze and fried food with the varying smells of diapers, baby powder and milk? And isn’t the quality of my rest going to be at least a teensy-bit better since I won’t be sleeping under the influence? I have to be missing something when those parents are laughing and lauding the sleeplessness that awaits me, since, you know, ‘I don’t even know what tired is yet.’
It seems a badge of honor that parents have bestowed upon themselves- this not sleeping and all thing- so I have refrained from questioning. But I do hope that Baby Monkey Meiners is as much a fan of late night dance parties and crappy nighttime television as I was in college because we evidently have lots of those in store for us. How else are we going to fill all of those sleepless hours, right?