Since day one, Brixton has been a champion sleeper. He would wake, almost without variation, every 3 hours as a newborn. Even in the early weeks (and with Brendan's help) I was able to get about 7-8 hours of sleep a night. I never suffered from the new-mom zombie period.
As he grew, he continued to impress us with his sleeping skills. Waking at 7:30 or 8 was his norm, even when he was going to bed at 7:30 pm. On some magical, rare occasions, he'd even sleep in until 9 am.
And daily naps of at least 1.5 hours.
We knew we were lucky. We'd heard the stories. We'd seen the empty parent-eyes, void of sleep, but full of delusion. I always warned Brendan, Don't get spoiled, this could change at any time.
I was right.
In normal circumstances, the fall time change is my friend. Sometimes it even occurs on my birthday and gifts me that extra hour of sleep, plus what feels like the longest day ever. It's part of the holiday season as far as I'm concerned.
This year was no different, except we knew Brixton wouldn't be waking at 7:30 anymore--it would be 6:30 technically, but I was confident that all this would settle back in and he'd get back to normal within a week.
It's not working.
What started as waking around 7 has slowly morphed into 6:45, 6:30, 6:11, and even a mind-numbing 5:50. Now that we are about two and a half weeks in to the time change, I know this is our new normal.
New normal:
-Playing the "I can pretend I'm asleep longer than you can" game with Brendan. Winner gets to stay in bed while the loser has to go get the baby. Sometimes played in conjunction with the "I didn't smell he had a poopy diaper/my sinuses are clogged in the morning" game.
-Laying in bed praying that God will grant us one amazing day where Brixton falls asleep next to us unexpectedly for a few more hours.
-Accepting the grim reality that Brixton is actually just going to crawl over my face/pull my hair/hit me/cry for stuff he can't have on my nightstand until I come to terms with the time.
-Hearing the noises of breakfast being pulled together and a baby screaming at sub 7am, and then realize suddenly that I am standing in the kitchen with a toaster-ready waffle in my hand and only one sock on.
-Repeating the phrase, "Three cups of coffee isn't a lot" several times each day so I can begin to believe it.
-Having to turn on lights because the sun hasn't quite come up yet.
Anyone have anything to add here? I need to get back to my coffee and my 18 month old, who is currently running laps around the house with a plastic bag containing a poo diaper securely wrapped inside.
Oh, and good morning.
Ah, so right you are.
ReplyDeleteWhen I'm right, I'm right, right?
DeleteThe joys of time change. I still try to coax Max to sleeping a little longer. But 6:30 seems to be the norm. And three cups of coffee is my minimum!
ReplyDeleteI went from one cup..to two..and now three...what's next?? (four)
DeleteThankfully, none of my kids had any issues with the time change and have always adjusted well to it in the past, but I have a newborn so I feel your pain! What really bugged me was that, Sunday morning in church, I had quite a few people come up to asking how I liked that extra hour of sleep. I felt like shoving the baby in their faces and asking them to repeat that, LOL.
ReplyDeleteThat sounds a bit mocking to me. "How'd you like that extra hour of sleep (that you didn't get)?" :)
Deletethree cups of coffee isn't a lot. ;-) that is a true fact.
ReplyDeleteThree cups makes me feel yucky. Maybe my cups are too big?
DeleteI was ready to start this off with "you've never been a zombie mom? I hate you!" but I feel justified in the end of this post! ;) I'm just kidding, early wake ups SUCK! Ethan is up for the day at 5:30-6:30 and I am NOT a morning person. Ick!
ReplyDelete