Eight Days a Week

I just have to say that I am loving my new job. It's a little crazy and a lot hectic, but I am really happy with my new school.

It's amazing, though, how adding 1 day a week has made me feel. I am so tired every afternoon. I feel like a zombie and I sleep like the dead (I'm even too exhausted for my insomnia). Adding one more day a week feels like 2 or 3.

Last year, when my day would end on a Wednesday, I would think to myself, "Great. One more day. My weekend is practically already here." Now, I'm one of those poor saps just trying to get by on coffee and Hump Day jokes because there are still TWO more days until the weekend. 

Not only that, but Fridays are wasted on me. I'm too tired to do anything fun. By Saturday, I start to perk up and then I wake up and Sunday has reared its ugly head. I hate Sundays. I always have. You start to think about the fact that the next day is Monday and you're about to start another full week. And there are so many things to do (laundry, cleaning, blah, blah, blah...) Even as a kid I hated Sundays. I'd be stressing about some homework that I hadn't quite finished and that damn 60 Minutes clock would start ticking down the minutes until bedtime (I loathe that clock).

I know I'll fall into a groove as things start to settle in. September is always a crazy month. Lately, though, these weeks just seem to run one right into the next. Here's to living it up this weekend and celebrating the end of another week that felt like it lasted at least 8 days.

Sunday night ticking of doom

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Are you tired, too, or is it just me? Feel free to share your story in the comments below...

Wake N Shake

There's been a crazy phenomenon happening in my bed. And before you cringe, or warn me about where babies come from, it's not that kind of phenomenon.

PJ & I both suffer from issues with the snooze button. I can hit that button in my sleep every eight minutes and still manage to wake up an hour late. In order to combat my snooze issues I set not one, not two, but three alarms for the morning. One is on my actual alarm clock, and two alarms are set on my iPhone. I don't always sleep well, so getting up in the morning isn't super easy.

PJ is even worse than I am. He used to leave his alarm clock all the way across the room and still manage to oversleep. This man sleeps like the dead. He would either never hear the alarm or walk across the room, turn off the alarm, and resume sleeping like nothing ever happened. Obviously, this would make arriving to work at a decent time a real challenge. 

PJ decided that he needed to take drastic measures. So he got a new app for his iPhone. Enter the crazy phenomenon - Wake N Shake. This app is terrifying. And, while it works wonders getting my husband out of bed daily, it is making me strongly consider sleeping in a different bedroom.

Close your eyes and I'll describe the scene. Okay, don't close your eyes because then you can't read, but try to envision this:

• You're sound asleep in your bed. All of a sudden, the scariest evil laugh you have ever heard starts echoing all around your room. (Why PJ chose this particular sound for the alarm really makes me question his sanity.) While you frantically try to figure out from where the evil laughter is coming (and how a murderous clown got into your bedroom), an earthquake hits. The bed begins to shake so violently, you're not sure whether your demise will be at the hands of the evil-laughing clown or the quake.

Lovely, right? Isn't that a beautiful way to arise from your slumber? Who needs chirping birds and the slowly rising sun when you can have evil laughter and earthquakes. The thing about the app that works for PJ is that you cannot turn off the alarm (scary, horrible, loud, evil laughing) until you violently shake your phone for a certain amount of time. The app refers to itself as the alarm clock with "no mercy." I'm just not sure what I ever did to deserve this. 

You can't stop shaking until you get to 100%. Not any wimpy shaking. You need to destroy that mother-effer.

Another added bonus: on those nights when I have insomnia, the stupid phone displays exactly how much time is left until it goes off. I get to look over at that asshole phone as it taunts me with "4h 20m till wake n shake."

So, while PJ has cured himself of sleeping through the alarm clock, I awake every day in terror. Please, help me. I'm a-scared.

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Do you have trouble getting up in the morning (there's an app for that)? Feel free to share your story in the comments below...

Sunday Nights

I can't sleep on Sunday nights. As much as I like my job, starting a new week really stresses me out. The weekends and days off that we spend together as a family are great. Then, Sunday night rolls around and all I can think of are the hundreds of tasks I need to complete, the random little events and activities on the calendar, the chores that need to be done, the lunches, the uniforms, when I'll get to the gym, and on and on and on. I can't shut my mind off.

I look up at the clock projected on my ceiling and calculate how many hours I have until the alarm goes off. More and more time goes by and I realize I am not going to start another crazy week well-rested.

My DVR gets a real workout on these nights. The TV is a nice distraction from all of my silly stresses. The longer I can immerse myself in these shows, the longer I can put off the start of a new week.

So, here I am. Watching some shows and pretending I don't have to get up and start the weekly grind.

What about you...how do you prolong your weekends?

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Tuesday's Tip (#14)

Here's a tip for you:


Say "I love you."


I'm not talking about the idea that life is short and we should always let the people we love know how we appreciate them. That's a beautiful and meaningful sentiment.


I'm talking about when your 20 month-old daughter wakes you up at 2 am and insists on using your iPhone to play the Somebody That I Used to Know video on YouTube over and over again (all while singing along). This is when you should say "I love you." Like a mantra. A mantra that is meant to remind you that it would be totally inappropriate to strangle that little child when she wakes you up every 4 minutes and 4 seconds to replay Gotye's video. The combination of sleep deprivation and xylophone music starts to make you a little delusional after a while. So just keep chanting "I love you." It could save a life.

Have a tip to share? Or a new song for Charlotte? Feel free to leave a comment below...

...& be sure to check back every Tuesday for a new tip!

Tuesday's Tip (#10)

#10! Whoa - Tuesday's Tips are into double digits!


Here's a tip for you:


Choose your battles.


Really, this applies to most of life. But, when it comes to parenting, this is especially poignant. You need to know when it's important to lay down the law and when you should just let something roll. Kids do lots of crazy things. You'll drive yourself nuts trying to make them conform to your sense of normal.


Take last night, for example. Charlotte had one of her lovely screaming fits that she hadn't had in a few weeks. She started around midnight and was inconsolable for well over an hour. She finally progressed to making words and kept crying "shoulder." This meant she wanted to listen to "Put Your Head on My Shoulder" by Paul Anka. On repeat. (Thanks, Lala!)


While "shoulder" was working it's magic (& making me want to start screaming), Charlotte was coming back into reality and finally started talking instead of crying. She wanted crackers. And chocolate milk. Apparently, I'm running a damn diner at 1:30 in the morning. I might've said "no," but I so desperately wanted sleep. 


So, at 1:45 in the morning, I found myself in my bed with a very cute - now smiling - 19 month old who was busy licking the peanut butter out of her crackers. She kept telling me how delicious they were and stuffing the licked crackers into my mouth. I'm fairly certain I woke with a few of them stuck to me. I could've said no to all of that nonsense if I wanted to listen to a few more hours of screaming. But, I chose to battle quiet cracker crumbs instead of a screaming toddler. Draw the battle lines. Maybe crumbs in the bed are a hard limit for you. Choose your battles and let things roll when you can. If not, you'll be in an asylum before your kids even hit preschool.


Have a tip to share? Or a crumb catcher? Feel free to leave a comment below...


... & be sure to check back every Tuesday for a new tip!

Tuesday's Tip (#8)

Here's a tip for you:

Know what day it is.

• Subtip: Don't fall asleep putting the kids to bed.

Apparently, I fell asleep putting the kids to bed last night. I was "just laying down for a minute." The next thing I knew, it was 4:40 am and I was in my work clothes with my bra still on. Beyond uncomfortable. I thought to myself, "That's ok. I'll just throw on some pajamas and go back to bed." Which would have been fine if it were actually Saturday, like I thought. 

But, no. 

Today is Tuesday. My alarm went off at 4:52 just like it does every other week day. What an awful disappointment.

Have a tip to share? Or a glow-in-the-dark calendar that I can hang on my bedroom wall? Feel free to leave a comment below...

... & be sure to check back every Tuesday for a new tip!

A Special Kind of Torture

Every parent, at some point, whines complains about sleep deprivation. It's like a special badge of honor that needs to be worn with great pride. I never bothered to talk about it too much because I am one of those weird people who survives remarkably well on small amounts of sleep (and extra large coffees). I've been in training since college when I rarely completed an assignment unless it was due the next day.


Lately, though, I'm feeling a little whining coming on. In the last few weeks, Charlotte has developed an endearing new behavior that involves:

• waking up between 1 am and 3 am
• screaming
• crying
• throwing herself on the floor
• being completely inconsolable
• saying 'NO' to anything I ask her
• "Do you want some milk?" "NO!"
• "Do you want me to hold you?" "NO!"
• "Do you want to lay down with me?" "NO!"
• "Do you want some M & M's and a pony ride?" "NO!"
• (At least she's consistent.)

This fun little game usually goes on for a few hours. HOURS. Inevitably, she settles down about 20 minutes before my alarm goes off. That's when she gets all cute. She lays next to me in my bed and says, "Mama, want a kiss?" I say yes, but I'm really thinking that I'd rather punch her in the nose and get those hours of my life back. Then, like a true champ, she falls asleep as my alarm is buzzing. Which means I'm going to go teach small children on two hours sleep. For the second or third time in a week. And then, when work is over, I'll come home to my own preschool that is my family. It's like being a hamster in the Hamster Wheel from Hell. (Side note: doesn't that sound like some kind of screwed up carnival ride at one of those traveling carnivals that sets up in church parking lots? Apparently, I ramble when I'm tired.)

So, here's to hoping it's a phase. Maybe she's growing. Maybe she's teething. Maybe she's just an asshole. (I don't think that last one's true but, if I'm being honest, I do think it in the wee hours of the morning.) Whatever it is, I hope it ends soon. There's nothing like being so tired that you wake up with a hangover - without all the fun of binge drinking.

This is the only thing that is keeping me at some level of function.

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The Unintentional Family Bed

We have a king-sized bed. Doesn't that sound large and luxurious? Well, don't be fooled. Many a morning I wake up with assorted bodies sprawled in crazy positions all over that nice, big bed. There are days when I'm sure I must have 47 children based on the number of feet in my face and knees in my ribs. My husband has awoken - more than once, sadly - with his head on the nightstand instead of the pillow. 


We never set out to ascribe to the "family bed" philosophy. I just found it easier, especially when nursing a newborn, to let the little one sleep next to me after they woke up in the middle of the night. That way, my sleep was barely interrupted and I got more of it. That works great with one newborn. Unfortunately, it's a tough habit to break when that newborn becomes a toddler and needs to get evicted to make room for the next newborn. 


We did, eventually, get the kids into their own beds (for the most part). We did it by buying them two sets of bunk beds.  We positioned them in an 'L' shape when the kids all shared a room.  They loved having a boys' bunk and a girls' bunk to hang out in.  The kids were happy to stay in the bunks at night because they had each other.  


Then, we made the mistake of doing major construction to give everyone more space.  We gutted half of the house to renovate all of the bedrooms.  Now there is a girls' room and a boys' room.  Who knew the girls would be terrified of sleeping in their new room?  So, after a week of living in a hotel and major construction at the house, we are the proud owners of a very expensive playroom.  The girls spend every night sharing the boys' bunk bed with them.  I guess they just like being near someone when they sleep.


Which is why we still get our fair share of nighttime visitors.  Call it lazy parenting, but I find it so much easier to mumble, "Sure. Get in," and go back to sleep when there is someone next to my bed at 2 am whispering about whatever reason they can't possibly go back to sleep in their own bed.  I just don't have the wherewithal to get out of bed and walk that child back to their room and tuck them in all over again.  


Not surprisingly, with this many children, there's almost always one who wakes up.  So, we pay the price for our laziness in lack of mattress real estate.  As crazy as it may seem, I know these years are short-lived in the long run.  It's already a rarity for the older kids to wake up scared and need our comforting.  And, I'm working on the assumption that they will have grown out of this habit by the time they're ready for college high school.


So, I occasionally wake up with what feels like 47 kids in my bed.  It's a little nuts.  But I enjoy it because I know a day will come, in the not too distant future, when PJ and I are sprawled across our king-sized mattress and it seems a little too roomy.

Caffeine

I've always survived well on small amounts of sleep.  Ask any of my friends from college.  I was the queen of the "all-nighter" since I suffer from a hard-core case of procrastination-itis.  I should thank my lack of planning for preparing me for motherhood.

When you have a brand-new baby, everyone wants to know how the baby sleeps.  I've been blessed, 5 times, with really good sleepers.  Patrick, the oldest, was difficult to put to sleep, but would then go down for a solid 13 hours (where I would repeatedly make sure he was still breathing).  The others, as infants, were great, right from the start.

The problem, now, lies with the odds.  Odds are, one child won't wake up in the middle of the night too often.  Maybe once a week that child might wake up for a glass of water or to be comforted after a bad dream.  When there are five children involved, however, things change.  Somehow, there is some exponential shift in how many times someone will wake me up at night.

Someone wants a glass of water.  Bleary-eyed, I plod to the kitchen to honor the request.  Inevitably, no one else will wake up until I return to bed and make myself comfortable.  Someone else has just had a nightmare and can only be soothed by a glass of chocolate milk.  I curse you, Hershey's Syrup.

Situations like this go on all week.  Sometimes it's a nightmare or extreme thirst.  Sometimes someone just wants to chat at 3 am.  It doesn't help that I married a man capable of sleeping through Armageddon.  And I'm pretty sure the kids have orchestrated some evil plan to wear me down enough that I finally say yes to Chuck E. Cheese (oh, how I despise that place).  Whatever it is, there is one saving grace.

Coffee.

I get made fun of daily for carting around my EXTRA large from Dunkin Donuts.  My coworkers know that there is something wrong if that giant Styrofoam cup isn't in my hand.  Thank you to whomever decided to roast, grind and brew those little beans with hot water.  That and some good make-up allow me to function as almost human in society.

So here I sit, with my first cup of the day.  A steamy helping of survival.

This is what I bought to hang in my kitchen. Appropriate!