Thursday, April 16, 2009


It's no secret that I have been a bit on the tired side lately. Getting a decent night's sleep has been akin to locating the Holy Grail, in terms of degree of difficulty. And while I'm generally in a pretty decent mood, the more tired I get, the more I am frustrated by little things, particularly little things that interrupt my sleep.

Two nights ago I was completely exhausted. Jason was going out to meet a friend for a beer, but was kind enough to wait until Zeke had been bathed and put to bed, because I was too tired to manage on my own. As it was, I got into bed at 8:30, approximately 3 minutes after Zeke was ensconced in his crib.

At midnight, Zeke woke up and started to cry. At first the crying worked its way into my dream, then I woke up. I stuck my fingers in my ears, put my head under the pillow, and waited for him to go back to sleep, which he did after about 20 minutes.

Some time after that, Jason got home and crawled into bed. He's generally a pretty quiet sleeper, but when he drinks beer, he snores. Not horribly, but enough to wake me up (I'm a terribly light sleeper, so pretty much everything wakes me up).

Snore snore.

I kicked him. He rolled over and stopped snoring.

A few minutes later, the snoring started up again.

"JASON!! STOP SNORING!" Kick kick.

Quiet for a few minutes.

Snore snore.

"Goddammit! Go sleep on the couch!"

He sleeps like a dead person, so he shifted slightly but didn't wake up at all.

Finally, I went back to sleep.

3:30 a.m: Zeke wakes up and starts to cry. The prospect of lying there listening to him is far less attractive than the prospect of just bringing him into bed with me, where I know he'll sleep quietly, so I get up and get him. Jason sleeps.

5:00 a.m.: Zeke wakes up and starts to cry. "Ba??" he pleads, meaning he's thirsty and wants a bottle.

"Oh, all right! Goddammit!" I'm so frustrated.

I get him a bottle, he goes back to sleep.

Jason sleeps, undisturbed. Fucker.

7:00 a.m.: Jason's phone starts ringing, but it's a ring I don't recognize, and it doesn't kick into voicemail after 4 rings, so I realize it's some kind of alarm.

"What the FUCK?!?" I yell, loudly.

Jason stirs, says, "wha..?" and reaches over and turns off the phone.

I finally decide to get up a little while later.

At 8:20, I'm dressed and ready to go to work. Jason and Zeke are still passed out in the bed. Then I realize that Jason has an important appointment that I think is at 9:00, so I need to wake them both up and get Zeke dressed and off to school.

I tap Jason on the bottom of his foot. He opens his eyes and looks at me.

"What time is your appointment?" I ask.

"9 o'clock," he replies. He looks at the clock.

"Mmm hmmm," I say.

Then I bark, "Zeke! Wake up!"

I've never done this to him before. He lifts his head up immediately, looks around, sees me, and gives me a smile. My heart thaws slightly.

"Come on, honey, we've got to get up and go to school."

Somehow, I manage to get Zeke up, changed, dressed, fed and out the door in 20 minutes. The entire time, I'm glowering at both him and Jason for keeping me awake all night. Zeke doesn't notice that I'm trying to give him the stink-eye, and he's chattering and giving me hugs and being all sweet. It's hard to stay mad.

Later, after I've calmed down, I'm talking to Jason on the phone. And I mention how tired I am and how I feel like he and Zeke are in some kind of conspiracy to keep me from getting any sleep.

"Did you hear me yelling at you when you started to snore? I kept telling you to stop snoring and to go sleep in the other room."

"Nope, I didn't hear anything. I'm really sorry, baby, next time I've had a few beers I'll sleep somewhere else."

"Yeah, well. I'm just so tired. I don't mean to be grumpy."

"I know, baby. And I must say, it's such a treat to wake up to the dulcet tones of your wife screaming, 'IS THAT YOUR FUCKING PHONE??'"

He laughs. He's so good-humored about it.

I realize for about the millionth time that I married someone with the perfect temperament to deal with me. And apparently, that temperament has been passed on to our son.

I'm a lucky woman.

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