The Price of Sleep Deprivation

If you've ever read this blog or spent more than about five minutes around me, I'm sure you've heard about my complicated relationship with sleep. I hate doing it. It hates me doing it. Sleep and I hold each other in deep contempt. To say we "loathe" each other might be a bit strong, but I have to admit that I wouldn't mind seeing sleep die. One has to feel pretty strongly negative about something to wish death on it. And I'm pretty sure sleep has been trying to kill me for decades now, so the feelings are obviously mutual.

But, despite the fact that I have never slept well and often don't get more than a few hours in a night, I somehow manage to function. Well, mostly function. Function by the definition as it applies directly to me, which is probably about the same functionality one would expect from a hobbled helper monkey.

How do I do it? How have I been able to adapt to get to a place where I am not suffering severe effects of sleep deprivation on a daily basis? Or have I? Am I actually a complete mess and, if I was just sleeping properly, I would be some kind of hyper-functioning super human?

I've been pondering on these thoughts since last night.

Libby went out of town for a few days to stay with her sister Molly, who just had twins.

Side note: congrats, Molly, though I doubt you'll be finding yourself with the time or energy to keep up on this blog anymore! And thanks for having Libby out. I think, until this trip, Libby was secretly harboring a wish that we could adopt another baby here in the not-too-distant future (despite my numerous and often emphatic protestations). After spending a few days remembering how exhausting babies are, she has decidedly shifted into the No More Babies camp. Thanks and good luck!

Anyway, over the weekend, the kids went out to Nana and Poppa's house. While they were there, they stayed up a couple hours late both nights and didn't take naps. By my figuring, Gabe ended up about three hours short (six hours if you figure the naps, but he isn't a super reliable nap taker anymore and might go an entire week without one) and Norah ended up at least six hours short. They both sleep about 9-10 hours a night now. In other words, they went two days getting about 7 1/2 to 8 hours of sleep (well, they slept in a little, too, so not even that bad, I guess).

Yet, despite only getting down to a sleep period that is considered a fantastic night of sleep for an adult, Gabe had what can only be called a Complete and Utter Shitstorm Meltdown last night. It was a rough afternoon all the way around for both of them. They were at each other's throats. They were crying about anything and everything. They were refusing to cooperate. But by 6:00 Gabe was effectively done. He threw a tantrum about taking a bath--an activity that he loves. Everything made him cry. He worked himself up to the point where he couldn't breath properly (actually, we're going to need to talk to the doc about that, he might have some asthma or something). He was a complete wreck. Norah was a little better but that might just be because, like me, when she's tired, she just turns into a lump. She had resigned herself to just sitting in one place in the living room hours before and hadn't really ventured from that spot for most of the time we were home.

So that got me thinking. Here he is, four years old, and being only a couple hours net sleep off normal over the course of two days has turned him into a little monster. If that's the case, then what has not having a regular night of sleep for the past four years been doing to Libby and I? maybe we would be beautiful, wonderful, endlessly patient human beings if we'd only been getting ten hours of sleep every day. Maybe ALL people would be beautiful, endlessly patient human beings if we'd only get ten hours of sleep every day!

That's really my only thought for the day. Someone should try to sleep that much every night for a week or so as an experiment because, lord knows, even if the kids and my wife would let me sleep that long, I wouldn't be able to anyway. Because I'm absolutely sure that if I gave myself over to sleep for that long, it would take the opportunity to kill me.