Nothing like a little Yoda speak to get you feeling hopeful.
And maybe if I add a pinch of magic dust, I’ll really be closer to a good night’s sleep.
I took my little guy on a hot date this week. We left the rest of the gang at home under the expert tutelage of Daddy and had the pleasure of joining my parents and my brother and his wife for dinner at an Italian restaurant to celebrate my sister-in-law’s birthday.
After we’d enjoyed good conversation and loaded up on carbs, my brother scraped most of his leftover fettuccine alfredo into a to-go box. However, he left the plate with a few remaining noodles within Thomas’s reach. My hungry, resourceful man wasn’t going to let those creamy, cheesy noodles go to waste. He grabbed the plate, pulled it closer, and shoved a few fistfuls of pasta into his mouth. Then he grinned. Life is good, man.
This man loves to eat. He’s still not crawling, and I told my husband we ought to put a big plate of food just out of reach to help propel him forward. Thomas went very quickly from turning his nose up at solids to digging in and stuffing his chipmunk cheeks with anything you put in front of him. I’ve found all of my babies prefer to go straight to table food closer to eight or nine months rather than starting mushy solids sooner.
I’ve always considered all of my kids to be adventurous, healthy eaters with the exception of 3-year-old Mary Elizabeth. She’ll still regularly nosh on a few nutritious things like avocado and tomatoes, but her selection of healthy grub she readily eats is far more limited than that of her big sisters and now little brother. Interestingly, Thomas weighs only seven pounds less than his preschool sister. She’s on the small side, and he’s on the bigger side.
I’m not sure anyone will care about any of this, but I have nothing intellectual to say. I feel kind of fried and have actually been strongly considering taking a hiatus from this online life I’ve become so entrenched in and in fact, I wrote a lengthy post that did have a lot to say but decided to let it marinate a bit longer before deciding whether or not to publish it.
I’m just plain, old-fashioned tired. Tuckered out. Zapped. Depleted. Exhausted.
I have limited free time right now, and I’ve got to prudently choose what will nourish me the most. Those feel-good endorphins that come from exercising are what I really need, so I’ve been trying to squeeze in more time to break a sweat rather than trying to force blog post and/or article ideas past the embryonic stage. I’ve started to run again without too much pain from my chronic injury and have found my body is craving more sleep, but life just doesn’t seem conducive to spending adequate time in the horizontal position.
And it’s starting to show. Or at least I sometimes feel dumb. My babysitter told me recently about a study that revealed that chronic sleep deprivation (defined as getting less than six hours of sleep for several consecutive nights in a row) knocks your IQ down 2o points or so. I may have gotten some of those details wrong because, well, my IQ has definitely fallen a few notches. A few years back I heard about another study that suggested that chronic sleep deprivation causes mild dementia. My only consolation was that once you started sleeping again, the dementia symptoms would fade. I’ve always said that although my brain is fuzzy right now, I almost always pick up on the stupid things I do or say (or at least I think I do???), so I haven’t completely lost it yet. (I actually first referred to Mary Elizabeth’s healthy grub as her healthy garb but fortunately caught it. Those cerebral slip ups are happening more and more.)
Anyway, the hungry man has been sleeping a little better, but my 3-year-old has been waking up a few times a night with growing pains. She cries and says her legs hurt. It soothes her to have her legs massaged. Poor girl. Poor mom.
So there you have it. I have nothing brilliant to say. No big insights to share. Just some whining about sleep (or lack thereof) as well as some commentary on a happy baby who likes to eat (more than he likes to sleep through the night).
(If you actually stayed with me through all of this, bless you.)
Hope your weekend is delicious.
Last night I fell asleep putting my Rachel to sleep at about 8 pm. I didn’t wake up again until around 10ish when Thomas needed to nurse. I promptly fell asleep next to him. After a later noshing session (around 2:30 a.m.), I found myself wide awake. A random ticker tape of thoughts traveled through my mind. I wish I could say I was dreaming up the perfect plot to that novel I’m going to write one of these days or that the Holy Spirit was moving me and I’d discovered some profound, spiritual truth to take with me during my Lenten journey.
Instead, oddly enough, I wondered out of the blue, “Did I use the word ‘insensitivity’ instead of ‘sensitiviy’ in my breastfeeding post about food sensitivity in infants?”
Surely not, I told myself, because I reviewed that post several times before I published it, and someone would have dropped me a kind note telling me I’d used the wrong word.
I felt parched, so I slipped out of bed to get a drink, and I kept thinking about it. (OCD much?) I grabbed my phone, visited my blog, and sure enough, not only had I used the incorrect term “food insensitivity” once by mistake, but I had used it every single time in my post and even in the combox. Sheesh. Perhaps in the back (way, way, way back) of my mind I was worried my post might come off as insensitive to moms who have babies with real food sensitivities or those moms who suspect their little one is fussy because of the sauerkraut they ate.
Whatever the case, I needed to get over it. Not a big deal, I thought. So I swallowed my pride. It actually went down fairly easily. Motherhood has a way of humbling you. Although if I wasn’t prideful at all, I probably would have just left my errors for the online world to see, but I didn’t. I went back and changed all (I think) of the “insensitivities” to “sensitivities,” and then I decided that rather than cursing my blob of a brain, I should celebrate that it’s not completely MIA. It’s just extremely sluggish, and it frequently kicks in to high gear and starts “working” at odd hours in the morning when it should be resting. Weird.
The funny thing is I was recently chatting with a very good friend of mine who is also the mom to wakeful, young children, and I mentioned how I’ve just had to get over the fact that I make mindless typos and mistakes in my blog posts. She subscribes to my blog via email and told me she must be just as tired because she never notices any mistakes. This friend of mine is pretty brilliant, so this definitely eased my mushy mind. I suppose it’s a good thing that a big bulk of my readership consists of moms who are probably just as sleep deprived as I am and aren’t looking for perfect prose. They’re not waiting to catch my mistakes either.
I’ll leave you with a peaceful, sleepy image that just makes you just want to curl up in bed and not pander to random thoughts about mental blunders you’ve made but instead be grateful for all the reasons you’re a little on the tired side these days.
Have a wonderful, restful weekend!
I captured this moment during a recent visit to my parents’. The girls were hanging out in Gaba and Papa’s big bed, watching a movie. Thomas and Ivy, my parent’s yellow Lab, were with us and decided to take a little snooze together.