Not So Deep
I just don’t understand it.
Henry is sleeping through the night. Kristen puts him in his crib at around 7, he reaches for the stuffed bunny his uncle gave him, gives it a big hug, puts his butt in the air, and he’s out like a light until 6 the next morning. (He’ll wake up occasionally, but Kristen or I will walk into a room and ask him nicely to fall back to sleep, and after a couple of minutes of hemming and hawing, he will doze off again. We did a modified Ferber, which was terrible for one night, but since it “took”, it’s been great.)
But that’s not what I don’t understand.
What I don’t understand is that why, after Kristen and I have gotten 7 straight hours of sleep ourselves the past few weeks do we wake up in the morning completely exhausted?
Why!?!?!
It’s as if our bodies are so used to getting up a couple of times a night, waiting and listening for Henry to start crying, that we can’t actually enjoy the sleep and be refreshed in the morning.
I need sleep, people. I am in desperate need of it. And not just regular sleep; I need deep sleep, television commercial sleep (you know, the one where the guy doesn’t talk to Abraham Lincoln and that badger any more). And yet now that I’m getting the sleep, it isn’t actually helping.
I know it will happen, but I need it to happen right away. Like yesterday right away. Because I’m ready to start taking naps on my lunch hour.
