Amber Dusick - Parenting Illustrated with Crappy Pictures

Until I was awakened by a foot in my eye. I tried to ignore it. A foot in the eye was a sign that he was starting to move into a lighter sleep. This meant he’d wake up completely to nurse soon.

We nursed again. I was half asleep but mostly just felt like a zombie. My mind wandered to weird stuff. I closed my eyes and saw flashes of people and places like a dream, except I was awake.

Finally, he settled again and rolled away. It was 2:30 a.m. and I could finally get some real sleep! It was very unlikely that either kid was going to wake me up again. Sweet sleeping bliss.

Until the two cats came in at 5:00 a.m. and announced that they were hungry. They continued to make this announcement every fifteen minutes or so. I ignored them. But they knew. I was their target. They knew I was awake no matter how hard I pretended not to be. They finally settled on my feet so that they would be alerted the moment I stirred. I got a few more minutes of sleep.

Only to be woken up at 7:00 a.m. for a new day. Crappy Boy skipped into our room and gleefully sang, “Morning! It’s morning time!” Which woke up Crappy Baby, who replied with “Mownin!”

Then they jumped on our bed.

Even this didn’t wake up Crappy Papa. He was still sound asleep.

“Go see Papa,” I grumbled.

They had to poke his head and repeat “Papa!” over and over again until he finally woke up.

And what was the first thing out of his mouth?

Grrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Both Crappy Boy and Crappy Baby pretty much sleep through the night now (Yes, this actually can happen! It isn’t a myth!), and I have a new, incredible sense of freedom at night.

I’m still tired all the damn time, though. But it’s all my fault. Here’s why…

Every parent loathes the bedtime routine. Actually, there are probably some parents who love the bedtime routine, but I’ve never met any and they are probably weird.

Why do I hate it so? Because our goals are not compatible. My goal is to get them into bed. Their goal is to avoid getting into bed.

Nightly rituals are employed to let the children know that sleeptime looms. Our ritual has evolved into a complicated and arduous process with many steps. Any mistake in the order or execution of these steps will upset the balance of the universe. And nobody likes that.

Let’s assume that even though I’m barely keeping my eyes open, I successfully perform the choreographed dance of teeth brushing, mouth washing, changing into pajamas, peeing, book selecting, book reading, storytelling, back rubbing, question answering, water fetching, forehead kissing, goodnight saying and door shutting. All is quiet. I, too, can sleep.

But this is the first me time I’ve had all day! I suddenly have a burst of energy! I’m alone and free!

I’ll just check my email quickly before I head to bed:

Four hours pass. I’ve been very productive. Online window shopping for things I will never buy, bookmarking craft projects I will never create and copying recipes I will never make. And now I have to get up in six hours. Oops.

But it isn’t always the computer. You know how kids don’t want to go to sleep because they fear they are going to miss something? Sometimes they are right. Don’t tell my kids.

My husband and I have been using our new freedom to do adult things together:

Like eat massive amounts of junk food while we watch TV.

We know we are taking a huge risk with this behavior. If we ever get busted eating late-night cookies and ice cream, our kids will never sleep again. We’ve almost been caught:

So we need to get smarter or we will destroy everything. Like our lives.

I also do good stuff late at night. Like write this sentence.

The reason it is so excruciatingly painful to be woken up in the morning isn’t necessarily because I stayed up too late the night before or because my kids wake up before the sun does.

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