I made the deliberate decision to not blog last night. As I crawled into my bed at 9 pm, three hours earlier than usual, I knew that if I did not soon get some sleep, the thin line I walk between tired and full-out sleep deprived would be crossed. Jason and I had made a pact- 9 pm bedtime, no ifs ands, or buts.
So, of course, here I am at 3 45 am am, struggling to put an inexplicably awake Charlie back to sleep. We are already forty minutes in, and no end in sight. Every minute that passes, I am getting closer to the time that Sam wakes up- usually between 4 and 430 am.
Trying to catch up on sleep is an exercise in futility.
Edited to add, in response to a well intentioned by ill-timed comment: 430 am. Charlie is just falling back asleep. Sam has just woken up. I am stuck with her. Jason is dealing with him.
This is not 'some' nights. It's many nights. Some weeks, it's most nights.
And it has been this way for years. So unless you *actually* get it (and I mean *actually* as in have had weeks at a time where both adults in your household are running on less than 3 hours of sleep a night, total, with each of them balancing trying to balance work as well) please don't try to commiserate and tell me that you "know how I feel". It doesn't help- it makes me feel worse and more isolated. The odds are, unless you have a child with an sleep disorder, you have no idea how it feels.