It's my own freaking fault I'm sleep deprived...
Owen woke up for his regular 5 am snack. I noticed he was getting a little bit damp around the edges of his diaper cover, but I decided that I would just let him cook a little bit longer since I didn't want to wake him up to change him. Sometimes he's okay, and sometimes he's not - I had about a 50/50 chance. I put him down and try to go back to sleep. As I'm starting to drift off, an ugly thought rears its head and jolts me awake. "Did Bill remember to put the trash out last night? I bet he didn't... I don't remember him doing it... Hmm. Sometimes he does manage to do things around here without me knowing... The trash can is really full. We'll never make it another week. Maybe I'll just go downstairs and take a peek." Down the stairs I go, to be greeted by an empty driveway. Bummer.
Okay, do I go wake him up and ask him if he remembered to take the trash out? No, I'm already awake. The boy is fed and probably won't wake up again for awhile. I'm just going to do it. Up the stairs to dig around in the dark for my sweatpants. Back down to dig around the pile of coats on the couch for my jacket. A quick trip around the downstairs to find my shoes, which are always in the last place that I look (this time they were by the front door with the rest of the shoes - how did that happen?). Outside to take three trips to the curb (one with the trash can, two with the recycling). It's actually a beautiful morning. The cold snap that we've been having ended right after the snow, and it's probably nearly 50 degrees out with no wind. I look around, wishing I could take a walk or something. But no, I should probably go try to get some more sleep.
After chugging a bottle of water (we had pizza last night from a local place that makes amazing but extremely salty pizza), I crawl back into bed. Oh, wait, I may as well check Owen since I'm already awake. If he decides to wake up early, better that he do it now instead of right after I've fallen into my deep sleep cycle. Of course the entire front of his sleeper is soaking wet. So, I extract him from his wet pjs and rediaper him as timidly as I can. Amazingly, he doesn't wake up. I crawl back into bed (again). Of course, now I'm wide awake.
Do you ever get into the state where you're exhausted but you just can't shut yourself down and go to sleep? I seem to live in that state perpetually. I've always had trouble sleeping. I do my best worrying in the middle of the night. I've solved major political problems, deciphered centuries-old mysteries of science and discovered the meaning of life, all at 2 am. Of course, when I wake up in the morning, I realize that the things that were so incredibly brilliant in the middle of the night make absolutely no sense in the light of day... It's not exactly 2 am, but it's not really light out yet. I figure this post will split the difference and land somewhere between nonsensical and normal.
Should I wake Bill up so he can go get me some coffee?
I know that I only drink decaf, but it has a little caffeine in it and a serious placebo effect on me.
Last night Bill and I tried to watch the movie Closer. It got such rave reviews, and the reviewers all talked about the snappy dialogue. We turned it off halfway through. I just don't have the patience I used to for watching people treat each other badly. Usually the Clive Owen eye candy would make up for it, but his character was just so creepy. And I've lost any good feelings I had about Jude Law after the whole nanny affair. "Such a cliche." (If anyone can figure out what movie that quote is from, I'll send you some hand-made stitch markers because you will totally be my hero!)
All right, I hear the boy waking up, so you're saved from further incoherent rambling. Happy holidays, everyone!