Sleep Deprivation: A New Substitute For Chinese Water Torture

Hubris. It haunts me. I seem to vaguely recall that it was not too long ago that I was chirping brightly "I'm doing pretty well, actually...it's easier the second time around" when people asked me how I was feeling, and if I was getting enough sleep these days. Well I'm here to testify, my friends, that I am not. Not, not, not.

I know from past experience (you know, the experience I gained in those wild salad days before kids, let alone before kid #2) that my body actually functions best when I get between 8 and 9 hours of sleep a night. But these days, even though we are theoretically in the "settled baby" stage (i.e. the stage where I only have to wake up a mere 1-2 times a night, and at relatively predictable times), I rarely sleep more than 6 or 7 hours total in a 24 hour period. And even when I do get to take compensatory naps, the fact that I never sleep more than maybe 4 hours in a row at any given time makes the total number of hours nearly irrelevant.

Of course, as anyone who has read more than oh, two of these entries over the last few months knows, I'm my own worst enemy when it comes to actually getting the sleep I know I need. My usually strong personal discipline just fails me for that last crucial half hour before bedtime, when instead of finishing up the evening chores and going to bed at an appropriate hour, I instead wind up reading or surfing just one more blog entry until suddenly even if I dive into bed without brushing my teeth there's no way I'm going to get even 7 hours of sleep (let alone seven hours in a row. Hah. I haven't had that for *months*.) It's really hard to balance the need for sleep with the need for personal "down time"--neglecting either for too long comes with a price, so I try to compromise. But compromise doesn't always work.

I thought I could tough this out, but I have come to discover that this kind of sleep deprivation is like some new, modern form of Chinese Water Torture. Each hour of lost sleep, like each drop of water, isn't so bad. A few days, or even weeks of lost sleep, isn't enough to start to drive you insane. It's the cumulative effect of week after week, month after month of not enough sleep that starts to make you simultaneously irritable and forgetful, dulled around the edges and dimly wondering why everything (you know, like writing a blog entry that actually hangs together and makes any frikkin' sense) is so damn hard all of a sudden. It really is like trying to slog through sticky mud while it's raining--no matter how great your rain gear is, it's still just damn slow going.

Let me put it yet another way, as long as I'm in metaphor mode: sleep deprivation is a wily, devious beast, and it sneaks up on you like an oh-so-patient tiger while you are just peacefully going about your daily routine, minding your own business and feeling all smug and self-congratulatory. Then suddenly, with what seems to be very little warning*, you feel a huge furry warm weight crushing your body so that all you want to do is lie down. Right now. And never move again. Yeah. That's what it feels like.

Aww, screw it. I'm going to bed.

*Well, except for the fact that it's already been happening for weeks, if not months, and yes, I should have known better and yes, I can hear the rousing chorus of "duh" that everyone reading this who knows that human bodies really do need at least 7 or 8 hours of *unbroken* sleep on at least a semi-regular basis in order to function properly (in other words, everyone who is NOT me or Josh) is now uttering. Shut up, ok?