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Archive for 12. April 2009

Slooooooow Down…

Give me that camera, lady!

The result of getting slightly more sleep lately is that I wake up in the morning feeling peppy as a cheerleader on Snapple. In the space of several hours T eats breakfast, visits a park, is whisked through the aisles of Ralphs or Trader Joe’s, endures a brisk stroller ride culminating in another park and, upon returning home, stares at mommy in amazement as she squeals for him to chase her and darts off (laughing wildly) to hide behind a minimal choice of doors in the infernally small condo.

By noon, however, I’m yawning as I slice T’s grilled cheese sandwich into finger-foods-sized pieces. I phone my husband and beg him to hurry up and get home for lunch so I can have a catnap. By 2p.m. if T isn’t ready for his lengthy late-afternoon nap, I’m sprawled on the doggy-bed that is my son’s personal couch, begging him—as he bangs interestedly on his little electronic drumset, or presses the “repeat” buttons endlessly on his 2 talking books—to go make me a cup of coffee. Make mama a cup of coffee, baby, I beg him, adding, Please, baby. Make mama a cup of coffee.

When T does go down for his nap, I collapse on the king size bed forever dominating our living room, close my eyes, sigh with Calgon-ish relief and: am wide awake. I grab the laptop, check email, check Facebook, check The Pioneer Woman, check CNN headlines, check the mommy group calendar, check Huffington, check Dooce, check Facebook again, check the weather, then check the weather in Santa Barbara, then London, just to see, then—oh my god, the baby is awake.

I spend half an hour getting us both ready for a walk, then push him in the stroller to the park, the stroller blown to the size of a clydesdale, though heavier. I kick the soccer ball to T and am shocked that it weighs at least 2,000 pounds. I wonder, as I watch T investigate small, staked treelings by roughly shaking their skinny, developing trunks, if getting more sleep is better than getting no sleep or if there really is such a thing as getting too much sleep or if once one starts receiving minimal broken sleep, will one ever go back to normal sleep, whatever that is, and, if one does, is this healthy? I call my husband and ask him if getting lots of sleep after having no sleep is like placing a starving person in Sizzler and telling them to go for it. He laughs. He thinks I’m kidding.

Perhaps I’d be wise to pace myself and not dart about so much in the morning. I will try this. Because not having energy in the afternoon makes me feel like Sloth Mom: Pass mama the squeaking ring tailed lemur, baby, Pull that trucks book from the shelf, baby, Hand me that xylophone, would you, baby, Make me a cup of coffee?

Perhaps mothering is all in the pacing once a semblance of a sleep pattern arrives. I’ll see what I can personally research, using myself as a human sleep experiment, and report back. If I’m not too tired.

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