Oh my word, I am tired. Bone tired, where your arms and legs feel like they weigh about a thousand pounds each.
I worked last night, strictly volunteer. It was for a fundraiser connected with the district I work in. The fundraiser was very successful- there was an Anonymous Donor who gave a Ton of Money for something specific, in addition to all the much smaller checks that were written. (Oh, and I met a Famous Deaf Person, too- if you know me in real life, check out my Facebook page for a picture with said Famous Deaf Person.)
I got home at shortly after 10pm, but didn't fall asleep until after 11pm, because I simply cannot wind down that quickly. Now, in between school and the fundraiser, I had come home and showered, specifically so I wouldn't have to do that this mo9rning, which would have worked out awesomely- when I shower in the morning, I get up at 5:45am, and when I don't have to, I get up usually around 6:10am. However. My husband had to go to Philadelphia this morning for a daylong meeting with the company he does consulting work for. This meeting started at 8am. We live a good two and a half hours from Philly on a good traffic day. You do the math.
Yes, Darrel was awake and getting ready by about 4:30am, and left at about 5am. I, the insomniac, never really went back to sleep after that. Not his fault, obviously, that the two things happened to be within twelve hours of each other, but telling myself that didn't help much as I lay there at 5:15am, trying to will myself back to sleep for another 45 minutes or so.
What does this have to do with my son, you ask me? The little bugger, who rises with the sun each morning, (I wish I were making that up, I really do, especially since, according to my local weatherman, it's rising at about 5:35am these days.) was wide awake and talking to my husband as my husband got ready to leave. At 5am.
And, he didn't seem that tired this evening when we put him down. I mean, sure, he went down easily enough, because it's the same time we put him down each night, but right now, it's nearly 8:30pm, and he's still singing to himself. When does this kid sleep? Why does he have so much energy and we both feel like we've been hit by Mack trucks? And does anyone have any advice for getting a three-year-old to sleep past the buttcrack of dawn???
7 years ago