Having a son is one of the most incredible and wonderful things ever. We love the sounds he makes, are entranced by his eye contact and bowled over when he smiles.
Unless that eye contact is at 3 am.
That's a lie. I still love the glorious eye contact and enjoy it and then pay for it by spending far too much time awake in the sleepy hours.
And although this is a hard thing, this lack of sleep thing, it's just life now. I wouldn't choose to get this much sleep if I had the option, but it's only for a time. Somedays just feel a little bit longer though, and the pillow a little bit further away.
And hobbies get pushed down the list in favour of laundry and dishes. This is why I don't blog as much as I'd like.
Blogging when tired makes nonsensical and occasionally not as chipper posts. This is mainly because they happen when sleeping should happen and the sleeping bone gets a bit bitter.
(Also, I don't want to put up stuff that our son wouldn't appreciate having on the interwebs, so some of the funny and wonderful stories just don't get told, or anything too personal, but that is a post for a different day.)
Being tired is one of those fun things, kind of. You think differently, or maybe just a bit slower. So the little things don't bug you as much because they don't hit the radar. Is everyone fed? Check? Everyone happy? Check. Everyone making goofy faces at each other and dancing around the room? Check.
Pretty fantastic tiredness, this. When you're this tired, all sleep is the super awesome deep stuff. You don't spend time trying to sleep. Pillow, head, out. La la la.
We'll just see how long this lovely lethargy lasts...