You Can Sleep When You're Dead--If You're Lucky

Sleep is scarce in our house lately. Very scarce. I live my life on a steady diet of caffeine, wondering why I can't remember simple words like, say, "closet" or "bus." ("You know, you know...that thing? With wheels? Children ride it to school sometimes?") It's amazing how quickly I went from a semi-sane person to a fumbling idiot with no short-term memory and a serious dependence on concealer. Sleep deprivation has left me a saggy, emotionally-fragile mess. I actually got choked up listening to a pop song on the train the other morning--something about the swell of the violins pulled a one-two punch on my exhaustion-addled brain and I was suddenly misting up like a fool. So it is no small victory to announce that Sam has slept through the night TWO times in a row. I finally gave in and started feeding the kid rice cereal, something I probably should have done weeks ago. When I woke up Saturday morning after a full 12 hours, I realized that it was the first time I've slept through an entire night in about eight months. Eight months. Quite frankly, I'm lucky that I have any brain function left at all.