Musings of My Sleep-Deprived Mind

Zalea is awesome and I love her. But sometimes when she's awake at 2 am and won't go back to sleep I feel like I'm about to lose my mind. Thankfully this has only happened a handful of times since she was born (the awake and not going back to sleep thing . . . not the losing my mind thing). I never fully understood how precious each minute of sleep could be until now. And some funny things happen when I don't get enough of it.

I've nearly left the house in my underwear. Numerous times. I'll be rushing to get out the door, making sure I have baby, binkie, diaper, blanket, phone, purse, sun protection, and a million other things that never seemed necessary before. I'll step out my door and feel . . . . different. Why does the breeze feel so much more. . . . breezy? And then I realize my error. Luckily for me my door opens into a dark stairwell where nobody would ever see my mostly-naked self. Clothing just is not at the top of the list these days I guess. I think it's overrated anyway.

You'd think that since the number of hours I spend asleep has dropped dramatically my body and mind would be ready to conk out and take me to the deepest realms of relaxation the minute I close my eyes, so as not to waste a precious second of it. Not so. I have had the straaaaaangest dreams of my life during these past 4 months, and they generally end in me jolting awake out of a dead sleep. The worst ones always involve something bad happening to my teeth, but the subject matter varies wildly. My favorite dream, however, did not even belong to me. One night as I lay slumbering in bed, I was awoken not by Zalea, but by David as he lurched across to my side of the bed and started digging around frantically in the covers. I was immediately wide awake and concerned. I asked him if he was ok. He assured me he was and continued pawing around in my side of the bed. I started giggling and asked him what he was doing. He told me he lost something and was trying to find it. I asked him what it was and he answered with this gem: "I dropped my funeral knife." He was obviously very concerned about it so I soothed him and tried to tell him it was alright and to go back to sleep but it took a lot of convincing before he gave up the search.

Forgetting. Everything. Even if I make a list. I've gone down to Foodland several times with the express purpose of depositing a huge bag of rolled quarters from our laundry machines. I even fill out the deposit slip ahead of time. The bag is huge and heavy and I always put it near the door to make sure I don't forget it. I get all the way down to the bank, and hand over the deposit slip with whatever other rent checks I brought to deposit and the teller gives me this look and says "hm I'm getting a different total." No, everything should be there, I reply. And then I remember. That stupid bag of quarters. Sitting by my door mocking me. The worst part of it is having to fill out a new deposit slip. At least it's been different tellers each time (I think).

And many, many, many more strange things. Life is crazy but amazing and when it comes down to it, I wouldn't change a thing.