I'm pooped

One of the worst pieces of advice I was given (by multiple people) before Ari was born was to "sleep when the baby sleeps."  There are so many things that prohibit this ideal-sounding suggestion.  Aside from baby nap time being the only time I can do laundry, clean up, bathe, and shop online cook, I've never been able to shut my eyes and just fall asleep when Ari's lids close.  It may have something to do with the 12 16 24 oz of java my body needs every morning to function or my desire to bang out a blog post for the thousands hundreds tens of readers out there.  Either way, I've tried, and it takes me 45 minutes to get comfy, 45 minutes to stop thinking about all of the stuff I should/could be doing, and then the second I fall asleep, I hear the waa waa waa of my waking baby. 

Thanks to teething, the past 11 nights (but who's counting?) haven't been as restful as they had been and I've been pretty sleepy and groggy during the day.  But yesterday, after a sequence of idiotic events, I realized I really need to catch up on my zzz's.

It started in the morn.  I filled the coffee pot, hit the brew button, and waited patiently as I fed Ari breakfast.  The beep signaled the coffee complete, I grabbed a mug, added 2 splenda packets, a splash of sugar free hazelnut coffeemate, poured, and gulped.  Through the burn of the taste buds, I realized something wasn't right with my a.m. delight.  It took me at least five minutes to comprehend I never added the crack Starbucks Sumatra extra-bold beans to the coffee maker.  I was drinking hot hazelnut-flavored water. 

Around 9am, I dressed myself in a pair of white pants and tank top, and the 3 of us quickly packed up to run errands.  I forgot Aunt Flo (ahem, ladies you know the pesky visitor) was staying with us for a few days and I did not "make her bed" (just go with the metaphor).  Needless to say, Goodwill is getting a donation.

The sun came out and the temperature outside rose and I removed Ari's socks so he wouldn't overheat.  For safe keeping, I stuck them in my bra (I should have stuffed them in my undies), and we went about our day.  We visited friends, ate out for lunch, shopped at Target, and went to the park.  Nobody (thanks honey) pointed out that one grey and green sock was sticking out from my armpit. All day long.

The sun set, Ari went to sleep, and I made the foolish practical decision to go grocery shopping.  I shopped, paid, and walked to my car.  I had my wallet and phone.  But no keys.  I peeked in and around the car.  No keys.  I retraced my steps in the parking lot and in the store.  No keys.  I started to panic.  (What the F is wrong with me?  I had absolutely no memory of locking my car or doing anything with my keys.)  I walked up to the Customer Service desk and sheepishly asked if they had any keys.  "Someone found these by the rotisserie chickens."  I took my keys and red cheeks and drove home.

I did receive some good post-baby sleep advice once.  "Nobody ever died from sleep deprivation." 

It may be true.  But, I still could use a nap.