So, I don't know if we are deep into some kind of heinous sleep regression or if there's a general sucky sleep formula brought on by two back-to-back trips away, weaning, learning to walk and talk (for the baby) and impending preschool and learning to run and climb somewhat fearlessly and scream exceptionally loudly for TLNG.
Whatever the cause, the result is the same.
A level of heartbreak and angst that is unexplainable, for the sheer number of superlatives involved.
In other words: Oh My Holy Fucking Hell.
It's one thing to bring a newborn home, into an already established family with a well-functioning sleep routine. You just KNOW that shit is going to get harshed. And good. But when that newborn grows and sleeps SLEEPS! Through the night! And your toddler-slash-preschooler (is she REALLY a preschooler? Holy Shit,) is also a champion sleeper! Well, this kind of thing can come right out of left field to simultaneously bite you on the ass and run you over like a truck.
Part of it is that, with my son, I find myself losing track of those Sleep Regressions/Wonder Weeks/Whatever the hell reasons that you can find to explain the fucking insanity of early childhood behavior switch-ups. I'm saying that next month (NEXT MONTH!) he's going to be a year old. He's standing and cruising and balancing all by himself. He's babbling and playing games and eating me out of house and home. But because there's twice the motion and keeping track with two kids, I just..well, let's just say that a few nights ago I realized that I was going to have to plan a first birthday party and it took me..totally off guard. WTH?
I'm sure that the sleep deprivation is at least partially to blame.
I find myself slogging through, trying to force myself to work, to clean, to write, to address the frigging package to Jess already, because, DAMN. The lack of sleep works on me, though. It's one of the things that I most hate about parenting. (One of the others is Mr. Potato Head. Just saying.)
I know that I will sleep again.
I know that my son will start walking (send help when he does, cause, omfg) and talking and sleeeeeping again. I know that my daughter will start preschool and will work through whatever the hell is making her scream her head off at 2:48 in the morning because she can't get her hair to go the right way.
It's temporary. That's my mantra whenever we are in a 'bad spot,' sleep or behavior wise. It's temporary.
The thing is: we're four weeks in already and there's no end in sight.
I think I might need a new mantra.