It recently occurred to me that I haven’t slept more than 3 hours in a row since Little L was born. (Well, OK, there was that one time that she slept until 5 a.m., but I’m not so sure it really happened, it might have been a sleep deprived hallucination.) With that in mind, I now understand why I’ve been a little off my game these last few weeks. To whit:
You know you’re tired when…
… you start to lose your words.
I was at that great big green coffee chain when I decided I wanted to add a little spice to my regular latte. That’s precisely when my brain blanked and I was overheard telling the barista “Could I have it with some of that… that… you know… it’s brown? you eat it? shaped like a little man?” It’s a good thing a friend was there to rescue the poor guy. “She wants the gingerbread syrup. Sugar free.”
… you inflict bodily harm on yourself and it doesn’t keep you from getting back to bed.
The other night I decided that I didn’t need to put the swing away; I would totally remember that it was in the middle of the hall between our room and C’s. Yeah, right. At 2 a.m., when C had a nightmare, I rushed to her room to quiet her before she woke the baby. On my way there I smashed my foot into the swing. I hoped to the crib, found a pacifier, and quieted the child. Then I turned and hobbled back to bed, doing a great job of ignoring the searing pain in my throbbing toe.
When M got up in the morning I rolled over and said: “I think I broke my toe.” I don’t think he believed me. It actually took me a few days to decide the toe wasn’t broken, just really badly bruised.
… you come up with hair-brained ideas at work.
This morning I pitched a skit idea for a show we put on once a year. It was a great idea. So great, in fact, that we did it last year, AND I WAS IN THE SKIT.
… you know there’s more to the story, but you are just too darn tired to remember.
How about you? What have you done in the throes of sleep deprivation? And, please, tell me there’s hope for me…