Last weekend, Sabine's auntie came over and babysat so Kadin and I could go out and be a civilized twosome vs. dragging tiny monster along while we guzzle drinks and devour meals in 3.2 seconds before she thoroughly upends whatever unfortunate restaurant we chose to terrorize.
It was fun. Really fun. But three drinks and falling into bed at 1:30 a.m. is not what it used to be. And neither am I. I was exhausted and in pain the day after, when I asked Kadin to get me a Tylenol. And since I like to "go big or go home," I asked him for a Tylenol and a half (700 mg). It turns out that he gave me the blue ones, you know, blue as in P.M. "That was all I could find," he said. Of course, moments later I found a huge brand new bottle of regular Tylenol sitting atop the kitchen counter.
At first, I freaked out. I have not slept more than six hours in a night or taken more than a thirty-minute nap in the past two years. Sabine is like a cold bucket of water dumped on your head. You not only have to be awake when she's around, you have to be alert, agile, faster than lightening and uh, I don't know, lucid? But I had no choice. Sleep was suddenly out of my control. Not long after those little blue pills were long-gone down my gullet, I felt lobotomized, narcoleptic. I couldn't keep my eyes open. I slept in the car, while sitting up, while talking, with my head on the table and on the couch while Sabine used my body as a trampoline.
And I have to tell you, it was luxuriously delicious. My couch felt like a bed at the Four Seasons. The bouncing toddler was but a footnote in my sleep story. I felt like Rip van Winkle. I love sleep and I've missed it so. I'm incredibly vigilant when it comes to Sabine; I rarely let her out of my sight or stop caring for her to do anything else. Those little blue pills were the happiest accident I've had in a long time. Sometimes, you have to be forced into taking a break--even if that means being unintentionally drugged.