Tired Mom, Happy Baby

You remember Christmas as a kid? I mean Christmas Eve, the night before. Going to sleep seemed impossible because tomorrow was going to be so awesome.

Or maybe you didn't celebrate Christmas, but you might still know the feeling - perhaps the day before your family went on a really fun vacation. You might have been up every other hour at night in excitement.

Ok, so maybe you didn't celebrate Christmas and your family never went anywhere. I'm sorry. That sucks. But you still might know the feeling. That feeling of anxious excitement keeping you awake the day before you start a new job or go to a new school.

I'm pretty sure that for Silas, every night must be Christmas Eve. There is no other explanation for how he can almost settle down to sleep, quietly babbling baby bedtime talk before turning over and sitting up and starting to shout about "football" or "doggies."

And once he reminds himself that there could be doggies outside, he can't understand why in the world I would want him to stay in his bed and not go look outside for doggies. After all, if he's thinking about doggies, clearly doggies are around here somewhere.

Imagine that for five nights in a row and you've imagined how my trip up north went with him. Silas could not and would not shut down at night. Somehow, he got by on less sleep than ever and I could only hang on for the ride.

I'll write more about my trip later, but I wanted to finish with the "happy ending" of this story. On our last day of the trip, we had two flights to get home. The first flight was roughly around the time of his afternoon nap. Silas fell asleep in the car about fifteen minutes before we got to the airport and no amount of clapping or singing could have stopped him. This led to him really not feeling like a nap on the two and a half hour flight.

At the very end of the flight, as we began our descent, Silas fell asleep for about another fifteen minutes.

After a two hour layover, we got onto our final plane. I was certain that Silas would fall asleep and remain asleep for the short one hour flight. We boarded the fairly empty and tiny plane and got a row of two seats to ourselves. As the plane taxied down the runway for take off, the cabin lights were dimmed and I thought to myself - perfect!

Then pretty much everyone else on the flight turned on their reading lights. On the tiny plane, this brought the light level up enough that Silas had to look around. He waved to the person sitting a row ahead of us across the aisle. He looked out the window and said "bye-bye doggies" about fifty million times. We read the Airplane Safety Card sixty times or so. Every time I would fold it back up, he would unfold it and point to a picture, looking at me to explain what it meant.

But I was not going to be discouraged. I scooted over to the empty window seat, hoping the space would be a little darker and tried to nurse him to sleep. It was almost working, until the cabin lights came up when the complimentary beverage service began.

I knew when I was beat. I read the Airplane Safety Card with Silas a few more times and we looked out the window together, wondering if, perhaps, there were some doggies outside.

Then we hit some turbulence. It wasn't bad, but my stomach dropped a few times and I'll admit I was somewhat more nervous than usual due to the small size of the aircraft. I did my best to breath slowly and calmly and to force my heart rate to stay normal so that Silas would not sense my nervousness.

He quieted down, looking out the window without trying to pull down the shade or asking about doggies. Was he scared too?

He had never sat so still in my lap, and I was certain he was deciding that this flying business was no fun after all. I couldn't quite see his face since he was looking away from me out the window and was hugging my arm gently. Each new bout of turbulent movement caused him to cling just a touch harder, and I gave him a kiss on the top of his head.

That's when I noticed he was asleep. The hugging must have been an involuntary movement, because he was sound asleep. So sound asleep that even landing did not wake him up, nor the movement of passengers retrieving their bags from the overhead compartment. But we couldn't stay on the plane forever, so I gently woke him and we went on our way.

That night, Silas didn't get to sleep in his crib until ten, and I was ready to cry when I heard him crying in his room at about five in the morning. I sent Smiley to go grab him, and Silas surprised us both by snuggling between us and going back to sleep until eight thirty. He must have been making up for some of that lost sleep. I was very thankful. And I even feel coherent. I hope this blog post reflects that. I'm too scared to check myself.

Normal People Just Fill Out Transcript Request Forms

Applying to nursing school is starting to freak me out. And I'm not even at the part where I apply to the nursing program. I'm just applying to the college that the nursing program is at. (You apply to the college, send them your transcripts, and then apply to the nursing school and send the nursing school a separate set of the same transcripts because apparently the programs refuse to share.)

Last night, I was already in a bit of an unsettled mood. I had tried to put Silas down for bedtime at about nine and he was having none of the settling down. So I let him crawl and toddle around for awhile and in a few minutes he was ready to settle down and nurse. Recently he hasn't been nursing to sleep. He will nurse almost to sleep and then stop and look up at me.

At that point, my cue is to get up, brace myself, and bring him to his crib where he will cry for a few minutes and fall asleep. Usually, because he knows how sad it makes me (I assume), he starts crying as soon as we enter the nursery. Last night was no different. He started to sniffle as we crossed through from the hallway to his room and I gave him a few back pats, telling him that it was time for bed now. That we had had a busy day and it was good and fun and I loved him.

Suspiciously, instead of starting to cry, Silas lay his head on my shoulder as I lowered him into the crib. Then he flipped onto his stomach and - nothing.

He fell right asleep.

As I do every night, I kissed him and left the room, expecting that the crying would start up in a moment.

The crying never happened.

So, I was already on edge, figuring that he was probably coming down with the flu and a cold and everything all at once and would wake up any moment with a fever of doom and that he only fell asleep in the first place because he was getting deathly ill.

(In fact, after about an hour, I did go and check to make sure he wasn't warm and that he was still breathing. He wasn't and he was, respectfully.)

So there's my mindset for the evening as I sit down at my computer to continue applying to my hopeful transfer college. I have to send my transcripts. Call me old-fashioned, but I hate using online services to send transcripts, so I was printing out all of the forms from the now numerous colleges I have attended.

And I'm freaking out. Because even though all I'm doing at this point is printing forms to fill out, it's still a step towards applying towards nursing school and that is a journey that could potentially end with my rejection and, well, I don't take (small amounts of potential) rejection well.

So Smiley sat with me while I printed out the forms and set them at my desk to fill out today. Which I was going to do during Silas's nap. Instead, I spent an hour cleaning the garage to procrastinate. (You wouldn't know it if you looked at the garage, sadly. See previous rants I've made about the amount of Stuff we own.)

But this story does have a good ending. Last night Silas slept from about 9:30pm to 5:15am. Woo! And I'll probably fill out those transcript request forms before too long.

A Tale of a Year of Sleep Deprivation

Shortly after I gave birth to Silas, I realized I was never going to sleep again.

That might be a little melodramatic. We're still working on getting more sleep though. After a year of being somewhat sleep deprived, I'm going to try to reflect on what it has done to me.

I feel much less creative in my own pursuits. It is insanely hard right now to sit down and write. Nothing flows when I type and I feel like that shows with what I've written this year. I remember trying to think of an idea for a novel for NaNoWriMo in November and just couldn't. It's possible that after just two horrific attempts at plots, I'm out of novel ideas. It's more likely that sleeping in two hour chunks is not conducive to creativity.

On the flip side, I've been channeling my creativity into games to play with Silas and so while I don't write much, I'm still satisfied with my ability to create: in this case, it's mostly games that work for Silas's growing mental capacities.

One thing I never expected would happen is that after eleven months of waking up every two hours at night, I've tried crying it out with Silas. I have had a hard time following through. It is one thing for me to deal with Silas crying because he wants to play with something dangerous and I had to tell him no. It is another for me to listen to him wail, alone in his room, crying desperately because he just wants to be close to us as he falls asleep.

However, there would be nights where I would wake up every hour with him and I would be incredibly tired and depressed and just scared of the thoughts that raced through my mind in those moments of sleep deprivation.  It reminded me of the episode of Scrubs where Carla, having given birth a few months ago, tearfully exclaims that she wishes she could just throw her baby out the window or off the roof of the apartment. The moment was played partially for the laughs as we watch her husband's eyes widen in shock as he races to make sure the windows are firmly locked, but it was also a serious moment as Carla dealt with post-partum depression.

I understood that sentiment. I felt like I was giving everything I could to Silas and it wasn't enough and it was frustrating. How could he be so happy and calm during the day on so little sleep I would wonder? Everyone told me I had the happiest baby they'd ever seen, so who all was lying to me? People told me I was a good mother, but they didn't know that at 3 in the morning, I was crying and desperate, staying perfectly still as I held Silas, knowing that if I shifted my arms, he would wake back up and the crying would start again.

And I was caught between feeling like I'd abandon my principles by letting Silas cry when I lay him down in his crib to sleep and feeling like no matter what choice I made, everyone would judge me. If Silas was up all night, it was because I insisted on nursing him throughout the night and holding him and patting his back when he should learn to fall asleep on his own. I had no one to blame but myself.

If I let him cry, it was because I didn't give him enough of a chance to fall asleep on his own when he was younger and I had no one to blame but myself. If I let him cry, I was putting my needs above his and what right did I have to do that? And most of all, no matter what I did, and no matter how tired I felt, I had better not complain about it, because what right do I have as a mother to complain about the child I chose to bring into this world? After all, how many people would give everything for a chance to have their own child to hold and rock each night? And how many people would say the obvious solution is to not have a baby if you don't want to deal with the full baby package?

Ultimately, I don't have a good answer. Shades of all of these worries and doubts bother me each evening as we start getting ready for bed. Sometimes we have great nights - defined as Silas falling asleep nursing, transferring to the crib, and sleeping there until three or four in the morning. We've had three great nights this past year.

Most nights, it's not like that. Smiley joked that we're going to have to wait until Silas can understand basic logic and then explain that he can't sleep in our bed with us any more. Well, half-joked. Quarter-joked.

And the thing is, there's not really a black and white "solution" to sleep. Each family does what works for their family, and it's my goal not to judge other people for how they parent. I don't know their situations; I don't live their lives. I just know how paralyzing it is to feel like everything I do as a parent is judged, harshly, by others.


Whew. I didn't expect to get quite so intense about this all. I do suspect that it will get better. Sometimes, it can be hard to see the future when the best I can do right now is slog through another half-awake, zombie day.

And don't worry, guys.

I still REALLY, REALLY wish Smiley was on board with having another baby, like, right now. Because, seriously, I can't possibly be any more tired than I already am.

Still Loving Life!

I'm not sure how well blogging next to a sleeping baby will work out. Silas seems to start and fidget a lot when I first start typing. Once I get going, he's ok. But if I pause to think about what I might want to write next, he jumps again. That is not conducive to a happy baby!

But as my second week of classes starts, I'm still in quite a good mood overall. I think it's important to include overall, because last night I had one of those "I want to punch everything" moments. I'm still working on Silas sleeping in the crib at nights. Last night, I felt pretty good about the crib transition. I had done our small bedtime routine and put Silas in the crib. He had started fussing hardcore, thrashing his arms and legs, breaking the first two swaddles I tried. But on the third time I got his arms wrapped up nice and comfy to his body, and instantly, he was out.

So he went down in the crib and slept there for, I'll be honest, I don't remember. I think it was about two hours. All I know is that later that night, at about three, he woke up again next to me in bed, and when his fussing turned into crying, I fed him.

As I lay there, I began to feel incredibly overheated. I kicked off the light blanket I had over my legs, but I still felt warm and annoyed. I felt bad, because I wanted to pull Silas away from me to cool down, but I waited a few minutes until he seemed to have stopped eating. I pulled him away and decided tonight was as good as any to try to return him to the crib.

You might be able to guess what happened next - he didn't want to go back to sleep in his crib. Or, I guess, back to sleep in general. So I held him on my shoulder, trying to soothe him back to sleep. I bounced him lightly in my arms as I walked up and down the room. Twenty minutes of this provided no sleeping baby, so I checked to see if he was still hungry. He ate for awhile, and fell asleep in my arms.

Again, I tried to put him down in the crib and again he cried. I still felt oppressively warm, although the thermometer in our room stated it was only 71 degrees. I also felt aggressively aware of all of the light in our room. Since we moved our computers into our room, there are all sorts of little LED lights that I barely notice as I'm falling asleep. But when I'm woken up by a crying baby in the middle of what seems to be a heat flash? Oh, I was ready to sledgehammer everything in our room.

Smiley woke up during all of this, and asked why I wasn't just letting Silas sleep with us so he'd go back to sleep and I tried to explain that I felt like my skin was crawling from heat. I should mention he was wrapped up in our comforter, and Silas's skin was cool to the touch except for where he was pressed up against me. But Smiley did have to go to work tomorrow, so in the interest of a happy family, I hopped back up onto the bed with Silas.

Silas promptly went back to sleep and I lay there in the dark. I wanted to use my phone, but I knew the glare of the screen would wake Silas back up, so I closed my eyes and tried to think of nothing. Of course, I could only think of how warm I felt. After an hour and a half of this, Silas woke up yet again.

I keep thinking during the days when Silas wants to eat every two hours, that he's trying to regulate my milk supply to produce more milk during the daytime hours so that he can sleep longer at night. (Babies are surprisingly great at knowing how much food they eat in a twenty four hour period and will wake up during the night accordingly if they miss out on ounces during the day) But then I think that Silas says "eff sleep. I could just grow instead" and continues to want to eat every two hours at night too.

I mean, I'm not even that upset about it. I'm kind of thrilled that I've been able to be his sole source of nutrition. It's like everything fell into place and my body is doing what it should to provide for my baby, and that gives me a sense of accomplishment.

So yes, last night was rough but well within a manageable level. Taking care of a baby full time is a lot like labor. There are moments that are just overwhelmingly stressful and tough, like a contraction, and then in between everything is fine. And the end result is I get to be around a loving and adorable baby!

New Comp!

Yesterday evening Smiley put together my new computer. It is fast and quiet and hasn't burst into flames - it is a success.

So, as you might know, Silas shares a bed with me and Smiley. Our bed, if you can call it that, is a mattress on the floor. I follow most of the guidelines for safe baby bed-sharing and it's been a great experience for me; I feel much more rested since I can take care of Silas without having to get up.

But I think it is time for us to put our bed back on a frame. The underbed storage that we gave up when we moved into our house just over two years ago is starting to catch up with me. There is a lot of stuff I'd like to just jam under there and forget about. Once we put our bed back up, I think that we'll have to start putting Silas in his crib.

I feel like sleeping with Silas next to me is one of the only ways that I get to spend time with him. I really hate working all day. I'd rather be taking care of Silas. But at the moment, I am doing what I need to do. But if we put up our bed and put Silas in his crib - well, the thought actually makes me feel an intense longing and that makes me curious as to why I feel that way.

I know part of it is that I don't think he'll sleep well in a crib; I spent the first few weeks of his life trying to nurse him to sleep and put him down in his bassinet, and it felt like he slept horribly in the bassinet. Bringing him to bed with us was such a change - he still woke up every 2-3 hours, but at least I barely had to move to accomadate that. Now he has been (occasionally) giving us four hour stretches once a night, and it will only get better with time. But I still worry that he'll go back to waking up more often, and that it will be tougher on me to get up to tend to him, even though he'll still be in the same room.

Starting in Janurary, I'm going back to school and will have more time to spend with Silas during the day. I think that this will help make the transition to crib easier for me. But our bed frame in in the house, in the living room, taking up space right now. I don't know if I want it to be in the living room for four weeks.

I feel like this should be a pointless debate; we should get our bed back and move Silas to his crib. But I feel like I shouldn't think about this while I'm extra tired; it seems much more intimating than it is.

And this is what my brain is like at nearly eleven pm. Good night y'all.

More Sleep

Either I'm starting to sleep through nighttime feedings or Silas is routinely starting to sleep for 3-4 hours for at least one part of the night. The other day, we went to sleep around 10 and I'm pretty sure we woke up at 3:30, which would be basically a new record and has never been repeated as of yet.

Regardless, I'm starting to slowly feel a bit more rested. I know that Silas will most likely continue to wake up once or twice a night for the foreseeable future, but I feel like, now that I've dealt with the alternative of being up every two hours, I can do anything. As long as I get three hours of uninterrupted sleep, anyhow.

I've noticed on the forums that I go to, a lot of women complain about their husbands, and it makes me grateful for Smiley. He's not perfect and neither am I, but we work together. I think that a lot of times, what women perceive as a problem with their husband is actually a symptom of the fact that (and yes, I'm about to bust out a generalization, so feel free to tell me how your case is different) men are problem-solvers.

The way I see it, having a baby does not mean you suddenly know how to take care of a baby. Sometimes, a person has been around a lot of babies and has had that experience. Other times, the first meconium diaper changed is the first diaper that a person has ever changed. And all the little tricks and tips you might have learned from dealing with younger siblings or babysitting might seem second nature to a new mom, but to a new dad, they don't necessarily have those tools. So when the baby cries, and there's not an effective way to solve the problem, they shrug it off.

So to me, before I would complain about how Smiley handles taking care of a baby, I think it would make more sense to give him the tools to solve the problem. You can do that however works best. I can show him by example how to check to see if a diaper is dirty or how to assess whether Silas is too cold or warm. I can explain the different ways you can help a baby pass gas and explain why a baby that's been cradled in the womb for nine months wants to be held all the time.

And then when Silas cries, I can watch with pride as Smiley picks him up, and, holding him closely, places a finger on Silas's cheek. I can watch as Silas turns his head and snaps viciously at the finger with his rooting reflex, indicating his hunger. And I can watch as Smiley grins with relief and hands me the baby because, well, I am the one breastfeeding.

Another Tale Of Sleep Deprivation

Quick - ask me to pronounce "deprivation" - there's a good chance I'll completely screw it up; I have been messing up words left and right and my only claim to education is an English degree, so it's darned embarrassing. I mean, if I were awake and aware enough to be embarrassed.

The other week, maybe two or three weeks ago, Smiley and I went to Target and I picked up some shampoo and conditioner since my current bottles were running low. When we got home, I put them in our shower and promptly flipped my current bottles over to make sure I was getting every last bit of cleansing liquid from the current bottles.

At the beginning of last week, my then-current bottles finally ran out and I took them out of the shower when I was done, ready to seamlessly switch over to my new choices next shower.

Now, maybe none of you guys are dirty hippies like me, but I typically (even before baby Silas!) like to wash my hair every other day. I have terribly fine, thin hair and if I wash it daily, it just goes as greasy as a piece of Pizza Hut pizza by the end of each afternoon. Not a good look.

But with the addition of baby Silas to the household, I'm not ashamed to say that sometimes I don't wash my hair until every third day. (Hey, when you have a minute or two to clean up before the baby starts screaming, you prioritize. If my dirty hair has offended anyone, I'm sorry).

Again, unless you're used to thin, fine hair, you might not know that when I do go three days before washing it, sometimes the shampoo won't exactly sud up like normal. Sometimes you have to shampoo twice, because your hair needs it and not because the bottle suggests it. So, I was not at all surprised when on Wednesday last week, I jumped into the shower and grabbed my new bottle of shampoo and found that it didn't sud up at all the first time.

As I was rinsing out the first shampoo, I vaguely noticed that my hair felt different than it normally did with the shampoo brand I was using. But it wasn't enough to force me to stop and think about the situation. I just rinsed out the shampoo and reapplied another round. This time, it still didn't bubble as I scrubbed it in. Now, you people with your fancy "full nights of sleep" or even "just four hours at a time sleep" might have stopped and checked your shampoo at this point to make sure all was well, but I chalked it up to my hair possibly being exceptionally dirty and I rinsed it out and used my conditioner and promised myself I'd wash my hair before three more days passed.

Three more days passed before I washed my hair again. I got into the shower, fully ready to wash my hair well, and applied the first coat of shampoo. Again, no suds. And that feeling of something being off was finally enough that I checked my bottle of so-called shampoo. For those of you playing "Guess the Mystery" at home, yes, when I was at Target last month, I picked up a bottle of conditioner instead of shampoo. For those of you who know I'm pretty blind without my glasses, I never noticed the darned word "conditioner" on the bottle the few times I've used it.

And for those of you who've wondered how my hair looked so dirty and yet incredibly soft and conditioned, now you know. I've been conditioning my hair twice, if not three times, every time I wash it. Whoops.

Every dang time!

Every time I sit down at my computer to type, I bring the dogs with me in the room so that Silas can sleep somewhat undisturbed. Sophie immediately starts sniffing around as though there will be some sort of food somewhere on the ground. In particular, she starts sniffing around Smiley's computer chair and desk with a ferocity that suggests my dear husband must have buried a body under the floorboards.

I mean, normally, I can just be all like "Sophie!" in a stern voice and tell her "no scrounging" and she complies. But when it comes to the area around his desk, she doesn't even give me her "I'm sorry" eyes for a half second before she's back to sniffing around. Some day, when we find a body or something under there, I'll apologize to her.

I think night time with Silas has gotten better. Mostly, I think I might have learned to just go to sleep while I'm sitting up and feeding him. Usually I'll stay awake until he's done eating and then put him on my chest to burp him and that's usually how I'll wake up. The alternative is putting him back in his bassinet.

Putting him back in his bassinet is like throwing a china plate against the wall and hoping it doesn't break - what I'm saying is, it's impossible to do. No matter how fast asleep he seems, no matter how boneless his arms are, the moment he touches the bassinet, he starts making little noises. These little noises become bigger noises and often are accompanied by an episode or ten of spitting up, despite my best efforts to burp him several times during feedings.

And then, before long, the noises become protests which become half cries and at that point I know I need to pick him up or the full cry will start.

Every. Single. Time.

(I feel compelled to note, if you haven't already, that this is through the eyes of my sleep deprived brain. I think that I actually fall asleep at some point and wake up to the fussing.)

Anyhow, today marks his 4-week "being alive" anniversary. Smiley and I have taken care of a baby for nearly a month and he hasn't broken yet. I think, just maybe, we might be able to pull this off.

More sleep deprivation madness!

Let's start off with some Yooper humor... otherwise known as, I have no clue if this is funny to anyone unfamiliar with the UP.

You may or may not have heard of a tale of a whale written many a year ago. It is called "Moby Dick." My full disclaimer is that I have never read this book. I only know the first line of the novel, and that's only if my teacher wasn't lying to us.

For reasons unknown to my brain, the first line of that novel will often pop into my head when I'm trying to relax and concentrate on things that are not bills or spit up.

Except, last night, while I was trying to take a 15 minute nap, I kept misremembering the line as:

"Call me Ishpeming."

Um. Yeah. Hilarious, right?

In other news, I want to have another baby. I mean, like right now. I'm pretty sure this is also the sleep deprivation talking. But the way I'm looking at it is, I'm already really tired. How much more tired could I possibly be with another pregnancy and another kid?

My brain is all up on the rationalization of this, reminding me only of the easy parts of my pregnancy - I didn't throw up except once, the second trimester was easy, and I went into labor three weeks early and ended up with a healthy baby. Women everywhere are telling me I look great for having just given birth and it's going to my head.

CLEARLY, this all indicates that I should totally get knocked up again. Luckily for me, Smiley, though he is as tired as I am, is a bit more logical about this all. He's there to remind me of the countless nights that I woke up, sore and uncomfortable and desperately searching for my lost bottle of tums. He can remind me how in the first trimester, all I did was sleep and how I wouldn't be able to do that while taking care of Silas.

And then I say, yes, I understand. These are all valid points and I vaguely remember the discomfort of trying to walk in the third trimester. And then I look at Silas and at his tiny socks and tiny diapers and logical Dani is completely replaced by tired-and-hormonal Dani and I want to have another baby RIGHT NOW.

Never mind that I remember clearly stating that I wanted to wait at least 2 years as to space out our children as I figured it would be really tough on my body to go through back to back pregnancies. Forget about the copious amounts of shambling that I participated in those last few months. Even the fact that I sat down to write this post around 10:30 am, and then had to feed Silas at about 11am and that when I finished feeding him, burping him, and changing his diaper (it took about an hour all in all), he started to root around again in hunger.

So if you notice a crazy gleam in my eye, just know that there is a large part of me this moment that wants to have another baby and maybe you could take a minute to dissuade me from this madness! From these tiny socks! From the cutest expressions I've ever seen on a little baby and the cutest noises! Oh, madness. I am overcome.

Wanna know how tired I am?

I had my baby on September 7th and since then, I have not had more than 3.5 hours of sleep at a time. I often wake up so tired my eyes are watering and/or crossed. But the physical aspects of being tired are minor compared to how my brain is reacting. For example, I humbly present this exchange between me and Smiley the other morning:

It was late in the morning, maybe about eleven, and I was feeding Silas. I was doing great until I opened my mouth to talk:

"Well, Silas," I said, looking at him in what I felt was a bleary but loving gaze, "At this rate, I won't have an official breakfast today. I'll have a breakfast lunch." I paused, and continued without thinking: "Too bad there's no cool word for a breakfast lunch like there is for breakfast for dinner."

I paused for another beat, thinking about what I said.

"Hey." I looked at Smiley. "Hey, did you hear what I just said?"

He shook his head no and I somewhat sighed in relief.

"I was lamenting that there's not a word for breakfast for lunch."

Smiley looked at me. "Maybe after you finish feeding him, you should go take a nap."

My mornings apparently start at 10 now

Or 2 am, or 4 am, or possibly 6 am, depending on how you define "the start of the day." I'm usually up at those times feeding the baby currently. I count 10 as the start of my day because that's usually when I'm up for good. Except for maybe a nap when Silas goes back to sleep, but usually not because I've found that my body appears to be producing some sort of adrenaline rush telling me to clean my house while Silas sleeps.

It's kinda, sorta working out.

So, for the first week of life, Silas was considerably jaundiced. They let him out of the hospital so obviously it wasn't too bad, but we did have to hook him up to a biliblanket for a few days. Smiley is off returning that now, because his bloodwork from yesterday came back fine. Woo!

I'm hoping this is all coherent, because the sleep deprivation is pretty killer. I think I started crying last night when the baby woke up to eat, but I can't quite remember, because I might have been more asleep than awake as I tried to convince Silas that my arm was incapable of providing him with sustenance.

But, as I've seen from experience, I know this part gets better, so I'm not worried. Just tired.

If I'm late for work this morning, this is why

I should have been suspicious when the alarm went off and my husband almost immediately sat up to get ready for work. But I wasn't. I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep, figuring that he must have slept better than me.

It's not a hard feat these days, what with waking up to go bathroom, to eat Tums, and to shake off weird dreams that sometimes involve mountain climbing and snakes and other times involve tiny baby farm animals on apartment complexes.

But as I dozed, half asleep and half awake, listening to my husband brush his teeth and clean his face in the bathroom, vaguely aware that it was morning, I slowly started to realize that the alarm was not about to go off again.

You see, my husband and I are one of those couples. We set the alarm for about 15 minutes too early and hit snooze twice every morning. It's helpful for those mornings where you need a few extra minutes of pretending to sleep to start your day. And some mornings, I get up with the first alarm and feel extra productive.

And then there was this morning, during which I apparently slept through that all and actually woke up to the final alarm. The next thing I know, Smiley's telling me that it's seven and he has to leave and I'm confusedly looking around the room, trying to figure out why I still want to be asleep.

Obviously, I'm up now. But I do feel cheated out of my "extra" 15 minutes of sleep.

Feeling sleepy?

I'm working on some pictures for the backlog of ideas I have in my brain and then realized I wouldn't have any one story ready for tonight. Then I remembered that some time back, I wrote an article using Cracked.com's topic page form. They never featured it so I didn't make any money off of it, but it's still there in a readable form.

So if you need something to read to put you to sleep, check out my topic on sleep. (Supposedly 12,000 people have viewed this topic page but I suspect that it is just from the time I accidentally got my mouse stuck on the refresh button.)

Oh, and for extra fun, here is a graphic I made for that page but didn't include: