Friday, August 10, 2012


When I was a little girl, I thought midnight was a time when no one was awake. I remember the first midnight I had my eyes open.  I was in complete awe that I was seeing this part of the night that people just plain didn't see.

That was many years ago, and I have seen a number of midnights since.  Especially since becoming a mother.  I sometimes joke that Liam's motto is "Sleep is for the weak!".  But, like most jokes, it's funny because it's at least a little bit true.

My Xbox fitness game likes to tell me that those who get less than 7.5 hours of sleep are likely to see their BMI increase.  To which I'm usually known to reply something snotty.  I like that my game says nice and encouraging things to me while I curse at it through a set of squats.  But I've started to wonder if the lack of sleep is part of why my weight loss is disgustingly slow.

Have I mentioned that I'm trying to lose weight?  Each of my children has brought a special gift to my life, at least 10 pounds of extra weight.  I was 115 pounds when I got pregnant with Reagan.  I'm just over 150 now and I've lost about 35 pounds since Liam was born.  There is more to go, and I'm working on it.

I know everyone complains about the sleep deprivation of parenthood.  And I know it comes across as whiny.  But in fairness, it really really does blow.  And that's what I do here.  I share the joy.

And since a distinct lack of continuous sleep makes me jump from subject to subject without notice or really any flow whatsoever, can I take a minute to wish that the fleas of a thousand camels would please infest the armpits of whoever sent my husband home with peppers that had fruit flies?  It took me forever to get rid of them the last time they were in the house, and they get into everything.  I find myself wanting to stalk them and make them die.  But damned if they aren't fast.

In more positive news, Liam still utterly captures me, even at a year old, even at midnight when what I really want is to close my eyes and dream about things I can't have, like cake.  Or maybe the hormones are just making him cuter so that I don't abandon him for a night at a Holiday Inn...

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