invisible protection
This is how tired we are at my house.
True story.
But first…random backup factage!
I sincerely hesitate to put this in print, gentle readers, but the colic seems to be ebbing at long last. Now we just need to work on that ol’ pesky internal clock, since our littlest dictator refuses to sleep before 3 a.m. (and YES, we’ve done the (rare) sunlight-resetting-body-clock thing, and the no-napping-during-the-daytime thing (actually, she does that quite well on her own, thanks) and all the other happy horseshit blahsie blahsie blah. We drew the line at a ‘few drops of brandy.’ At least for her, that is.)
So we don’t sleep much, since Puddin Face *is* on a regular sleep schedule, and gets up at her usual (godforsaken) hour.
We’re tired, gentle readers. S’all I’m trying to emphasize here.
We’ve also discovered that getting ONE HOUR of sleep is much worse than not sleeping at all.
(here comes the true story)
A few weeks ago, we actually considered ourselves lucky to get Pumpkin Butt to sleep by 3 a.m. (through a combination of nursing her until she gets drowsy, waiting 25 minutes, bouncing her on the exercise ball (long story), and putting her in the cradle swing, which is still the ONLY place she will sleep for more than 1/2 hour, over and over, until she finally gives up and stays asleep, which we’ve been doing for, what, just over 5 months now?)
Wait, where was I?
Ah, yes. So she was asleep by 3 a.m. and we were ECSTATIC and immediately passed out on the futon, where we were able to sleep until….just before 4 a.m. when she woke up. (Normally she will sleep a good stretch when she finally gives up, but unfortunately it will normally be somewhere between 4 a.m. and noon.)
So we were a bit distressed that she’d woken up so soon….not to mention the fact that we were both woken in the middle of a dream (you know when you’re overtired, right into REM sleep, etc. etc.) and EXTREMELY GROGGY. (<—worth emphasizing.)
My partner in sleep-deprivation goes over to the swing to retrieve our screaming daughter, and I was in my usual just-woken-up, butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth state of bliss so when he said “she’s soaked!” I thought “aww, poor baby” and said something like “awpoby,” as I was still well over half-asleep. But then he said “No, I mean she’s SOAKED. The bottom of the swing is a puddle!”
WHAT?! I was instantly on my feet and alarmed. Even allowing for major diaper malfunction, that didn’t sound right…AT ALL. And it was completely soaked. So was she. From across the room I could tell she was wet through from her mid-back down. My poor baby!!
He took her into the bedroom to change her, and I panicked that she would get sick from laying in that, then tried to convince myself she must have woken up right away, surely…..?
Suddenly, I heard a voice.
“Um, honey?”
“Yeah?”
“Who changed her last?”
I couldn’t remember. I was that tired. “I’m not sure, why?”
A pause.
“She’s not wearing a diaper.”
Oh.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Much hilarity ensued, as you can well imagine. I’m not going to name names, to protect the guilty, but it wasn’t me. I’m relieved it wasn’t me, but it could just have easily been me.
That’s how tired we are at my house.