Bad Night
Asher is sick with a mild cold. Most of the time he’s his usual self, but then he punctuates that with periods of bitchiness. One of those charming periods started last night at 10 o’clock, just when Ian and I were drifting off to sleep, and lasted until 12:45 a.m. During that time, he kicked me, scratched me, pinched my nipples, hit me in the face, and pulled my hair. It’s not fun trying to sleep with an attack baby by your side.
“Mom! I’m uncomfortable and mad, and you’re trying to sleep! What the hell? Don’t you know I’m The BABY? I RUN THE SHOW AROUND HERE. How dare you try to sleep!”
Ian snored—loudly—when I wasn’t talking to Asher or crying out of frustration. I eventually gave up and turned on our nightlight and the TV. Asher was delighted to be sitting up in bed watching the tube. “This is WAY more fun that sleeping or torturing you with my tiny fingernails, Mom!” Lucas slept fine until he wet the bed. At 12:30 a.m. we were all awake and looking at each other. Ian and I were both pissed off, Lucas wanted to snuggle with us and didn’t consciously realize that the reason he was out of his bed was because of the puddle in it. Asher thought it was grand to see everyone in the middle of that long, boring dark thing. What do they call it? Night?
I’m so freakin’ tired. The effects of sleep deprivation are cumulative, I’m certain of it.