I have not been able to figure out why, I just cannot seem to push myself far beyond 21h3o on any given day.
When I worked night duty, I had to prepare myself two days prior to my allocated shift by sleeping for at least 6 hours during the day so that I had some "sleep" stored up for those long night stretches. And it generally took me two days after the nocturnal sojourn to recover. Like a weird form of jet-lag. And it didn't matter how many babies were making their debut appearances, I really battled to keep the yawning at bay (which, I learnt, is not very encouraging for a labouring mom who generally needs a creative, physically strong and all-round energetic labour-support person by her side). It seemed that no amount of delivery-assisted adrenaline seemed to shake me out of my sleepy persona.
Having my own babies was also a real challenge for me, what with all those night time feeds! Being a dedicated breastfeeder, I did not share the 3 hourly feeding routine with my hubby, who would have been more than happy to help out if we had gone the formula milk route. I remember waking one night, after nodding off during a midnight feed, to find myself slipping off my rocking chair, breasts exposed, with my newborn balanced over my knee about to slide - head first - to the ground. After that incident, I would drag myself to my infant's bedside when she woke for a feed, hoist her over my shoulder and trudge back to bed in a zombie - like state. There my baby would feed and I would pass out. This turned out to be the best way the most number of people in our household got the most amount of sleep. It also had its drawbacks, of course. I did get rather aggressively kicked in the ear when I happened to readjust my head's position on my daughter's tummy. She did not approve of being a stand-in pillow, obviously.
I don't understand why I am this way. I don't think it's inherited, and I don't think it's from a lack of sleep, because even if I do "catch-up" sleep during the day, I am just as tired as ever.
My parents, my husband, my in-laws and most of our friends tend to be night-owls, so my lack of energy in the evening hours is somewhat of a disappointment as far as socialising goes. Give me a late brunch, an afternoon picnic, or a day at the beach, but please don't invite me out for a dinner any time after 8pm - I will be a great disappointment!
And please don't suggest we watch a movie after dinner - I might as well fill out a prescription for Dormicum. If we do happen to rent a movie for an evening's entertainment, I will watch the first five minutes. After that, things will tend to get a little hazy. There will be one or two points during the film that I will watch out of obligation (only because my husband has jabbed me in the ribs because my snoring has sort of distracted the other viewers from a high-speed motor chase or a suicide bomber exploding.) Once the rib-jab wears off, however, I tend to drift off again, only to make a valiant attempt to comment on whoever's names flash up during the credit roll. It's tragic, I know.
And don't even get me started on other evening activities... my poor husband! Sex is a bit of a swear-word. For me, because I have to muster up some superhuman energy to actually take part (as in "What the sex are you asking me to do?"), and for him because he probably isn't going to get any (as in "Oh sex?" *shrug* "Sex happens."). I'm embarrassed to say that I have lost count as to how many times I might (only because I really can't remember the details) have falling asleep during fore-play. Which is why, in His infinite wisdom, God granted us a weekend every 5 to 7 days, and Disney, being equally wise, granted us child-friendly audio-visual entertainment. Thank you, Mary Poppins! You have saved my marriage!)
I know it's not the ideal set-up, but it works for now.
Nocturnal gallavanting, in my book, is for the birds. Before you make the obvious recommendations, I really have tried to awaken the night-owl in me with double expressos, Red Bulls, even Pilates, but I'm afraid that that bird has long since flown the coop! Seems like an opportunistic secretary-bird has taken up residence in that dusty nest. Turns out she is only productive during office-hours. And by appointment only. Not even for late night chick-flicks. And she prefers her eggs unfertilised in the morning.
Sqwark!
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