Who's getting it. How they're getting it. Techniques for getting more. Sleep. It would be all I dreamed of, if only REM weren't so damn elusive.
(Yeah, that resolution has gone the way most of them do).
Baby C isn't a bad sleeper, but I've always needed at least eight hours. Six months of skimping have caught up with me. Yesterday, I followed the advice to "sleep when the baby sleeps" and crashed at 10:00 in the morning. The two hour nap didn't even dent the depths of my exhaustion.
So I was perhaps not the most patient or loving wife last night. We finally got to bed around midnight, but Greg couldn't put his Crackberry down. I asked him a few times to stop, and he solicitously blocked its dim light. But I lay there, listening to the little scroll down button whine on and on like a hamster wheel, and I lost it. From under the covers I arose like the ghost of Christmas past. I grabbed the front of Greg's tee shirt in my two hands .
"STOP IT! STOP IT! For the love of God, STOP BLACKBERRYING!"
I rolled over, contemplated feeling bad, but conked out before it could happen.
Baby C gets furious when she can’t sleep. Wonder who she gets that from?