05 May, 2010

LuLu the Grouch

Yup, that's me. Not always, only when I don't get enough sleep. Which has been the past 4 months or so. How do I know almost exactly when it began? Two ways. First, I had a baby 11 weeks ago, and the too-pregnant-to-stay-asleep-because-I'm-in-pain phase started about a month before. Second, that was when the contractions induced by stress induced by blizzards began. Oh, wait, that would be "see the first way," & I can't think of a new second because I'm too damned tired. But it's not all bad. There are intermittent moments of sleepfulness when I'm not a total Grouch. They usually involve Ambien (ahhhh), snakebites (ouch and yum), or nooners (yippee!) It's safe to say the Hubster and I will never try to combine all three at once - it would cause a cataclysm in our little universe.

So you may think it's perfectly normal for the mother of an 11 week old to be living(?) on little sleep. Which tells me you aren't a good reader because you missed the bit about the Ambien. Or don't know what it is, in which case get out of your cave and search wikipedia. In case the blog name and address didn't clue you in, I'm manic. Technically manic-depressive, or bi-polar to the hipsters. And yes, I was diagnosed after it came into "fashion," though supposedly by the guy who "discovered" it.

Being manic for me tends to include that I don't sleep, among other things. I could go into detail here about my mania-induced nuttiness, but more fun to throw these things in a few at a time. Don't want to scare off all the norms. Actually, when I'm in depressive mode, I tend not to sleep either, but that's because I become afraid of not existing, and that too is a subject for another time. Before the diagnosis - and bliss in pill form - I had developed a huge (like divorce-worthy) online-gaming obsession, and would play for hours and hours, just eating, drinking, mousing, text chatting and yelling at the scream with the tv blaring in the background. And once most games enabled voice chat, add in inappropriate innuendos, arguments, & screaming at people I'd never met, never would, and didn't give a damn about. Hey, it was something to fill the time - I hadn't discovered blogging then.

Okay, so I do sleep, just not well, or for very long. Hence the Ambien. And even that doesn't keep me asleep at times. Lord help me if I drink too much water in the evening, because one walk to the toilet (a whole 8 steps) and I'm too awake to get back to sleep. Luckily, I don't have to get up to breastfeed the boogie, or I'd be way worse. And before the hating starts on that, let me remind you: manic-depressive = big, bad drugs = no BF allowed, and no milk made anyway. And no, I won't stop taking the meds, as a nice & well-meaning breastfeeding mommy suggested, because then I might hurt my little joys, or my lobster, or myself. Or her, if she ever makes another unsolicited, uninformed and unrealistic suggestion to me. She'd know who she is, if she ever read this.

But I digress. I do that a lot. Unorganized mind and all.

About last night, I went to bed a little early, 7:30-ish. We're changing our sleeping schedules to let the big man grab a bit more, as he's supposed to start working from an office again as of next week. Ugh. Gotta do what the boss says, though. Took my happy pill, read half a chapter of Potter, and hit the light. Next thing I know I'm getting a lovely exfoliation treatment. From a cat. With his scratchier-than-sandpaper tongue. Big ouch. And then I had to winkie-tinkie*, so off to the toilet. Back to bed in hope of reclaiming my bliss, but in vain. (Not vane or vein! *cheeky grin*) Even daydreaming about Papa Greg** didn't help. I considered a quick date with myself, but I was tired, and the batteries were dead.

I hung in there for an hour, trying to fall back to sleep, but after while the back cramps, the head pounds, thirst, another urge to pee, etc. So out of bed around 2 am. And this way the big man could get to bed a little earlier. Of course, he was already asleep on the couch, 11 week old cradled in his arms (um, okay, wedged between him and side of sofa, but that's not as romantic), and both were snoring. Not fair. Really not.

I'm going to try very hard not to be a Grouch. The big man is very good to me, especially while home, and I should be able to sneak in a nap (another reason he's aka Saint Daddy) so as long as I can manage 'til big boy's nap time - only 4 hours to go! - I should be okay. Oscar may have to find another girlfriend today.

*winkie tinkie - urinate, pee, potty, etc., as coined by our driver's ed teacher in high school, back in '86 or '87. To get a hall pass we had to raise our hand and let him know we had to "winkie tinkie." I never was sure if that was for the fun factor or the embarrassment, but it stuck. I wish I could remember his name - he was damn funny - but you do that math, that was a long time ago, and my membrane doesn't work so well anymore. Particularly in sleep deprivation mode.

**Papa Greg - aka Dr. Gregory House, lead character on Fox's House M.D. Not sure when the name made it's first appearance, but probably had something to do with my little infatuation with the character (and then the actor - I am sooooo a fanatic!) during my first pregnancy. It doesn't help that the kids eyes are the same shade of blue, or that one of Saint Daddy's Daddy's favorite phrases is "we know who the mother is..." (leave it hanging, cue the implications) but I swear I have never been to Princeton, NJ. Or L.A. Or London, for that matter.

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