Molars. Canines. Illness. Developmental changes.
Guys…I give up.
So I’m never gonna sleep again, and whatever; I’m coming to terms with it. I have, like, really nice students this semester, and they don’t seem to mind when I teach them a lesson curled up on the floor in the fetal position with an IV drip of caffeine to take the pain away. Here I am all like “And Jung believed in the collective unconscious,” all while I myself am barely conscious, but it’s cool, cuz sleep is for the weak and I’ll totally sleep when I die. It’s not the biggest of deals either when after the lesson a student comes up to say, “Miss, I didn’t really understand what you just taught because the collection of drool around your mouth made you slur your speech a bit.” No biggie. Go ask a friend, kid.
People who like sleep. Don’t have kids. No really. Heed my warning. DO NOT HAVE MOTHER EFFING KIDS!
My colleagues complain about how tired they are, and it takes all my willpower not to tell them about the 30,000 times I went into my child’s room the night before to dose her with Tylenol because I’m scared her blood curdling screams will wake up the neighbors. This is real talk, friends. Molars are no joke. Hand, Foot and Mouth is no joke. All that increased brain activity from learning to walk is no joke. I’m tired and I hate everyone and everything. Do not come at me and tell me your 8 hour sleep last night just wasn’t enough. I will stab you with my marking pen.
I can function on 3 hours. And not 3 in a row. We’re talking 30 minute intervals. 30 minute glorious intervals where I dream of a time where I wasn’t a cray cray insomniac and my baby was a 4 month old with no teeth and no illness and no developmental milestones and she just slept and didn’t give me problems. I want to go back to there. Or better yet, I want to fast forward to when she’s a teenager and wants to sleep all the time.
So yeah, I’m in the thick of it right now, and the timing blows.
You win this time, kid.