2 A.M. Is Not My Friend

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Last night, Greg and I found a couple unopened bottles of wine in the back of one of our cupboards. We have no idea where they came from. In fact, the only thing we were able to figure out is that they’ve been in that cupboard since we moved into our current house–since 2008. We both have noticed these bottles many times, but we both wrote them off as being some kind of fancy-shmancy vinegar. Greg thought I had brought them with me when I moved in with him from my apartment and just didn’t open them because I’m not really a wine drinker. I thought they were Greg’s, but he assured me last night that there is no way he would have bought two bottles of wine and not drunk them in the past few years.

So.

Naturally, we opened them and I had my one glass–because I really only like to feel a little bit of a warm glow to help me sleep. After dinner and my glass of wine, I decided to head to bed because I was super-sleepy (Zoey had already been in bed for bit. We had dinner at around nine last night. Yeah, it was, like, nine at night and I was tired. Shut up). I felt good, the bed was nice and cozy and everything was fantastic.

I was sleeping great and then Zoey woke up at two in the morning ready to play. Dear God. Seriously, guys, she was totally awake and ready to hang out. I think I only had one eye open and all I wanted to do was crawl back into bed. Ditto with Greg.

What are we supposed to do when our kid doesn’t want to sleep when it’s nighttime? We gave her some juice and carried her into our room. Greg and I cuddled with her and she finally did fall asleep, but not until AFTER THREE IN THE MORNING. And now it’s quarter to six and jeez, where did the time go? I finally fell back asleep around three-thirty, but Greg couldn’t sleep until after I got up at five.

I’m telling you, our child is trying to kill us. In all seriousness, I’m pretty sure it’s the whole teething thing again. She has two teeth on the bottom that are doing their best to poke through, but they’re making her miserable. And Greg and I are miserable because we’re losing our beauty sleep. Why does my child have to have baby insomnia when she’s teething? Why can’t she crave ice cream or something instead? I could get behind craving ice cream. I would support her wholeheartedly. I mean, anything to make her feel better, right?

So now I’m sipping on coffee and praying I don’t fall asleep at my desk today. They might as well give me coffee intravenously all day today because I have a feeling I’m going to need it. “It’s my kid”, I’ll tell them, “She doesn’t sleep at night. She may be a vampire. We’re looking into it.”

For that reason alone, I feel I should be allowed to wear my pajamas to work today.

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