Once upon a time I wouldn't sleep - by choice. I could go for DAYS without sleep, albeit, chemically enhanced, but nonetheless, I could rage it.
In my early twenties, I once stayed up and partied for 7 days. Please note, I was extremely unhealthy back then, and I would not condone that kind of behavior for anyone, but still, my capacity to pull all-nighters was commendable.
Fast forward a few years. I was in my late twenties, living in Nashville, and had replaced certain chemicals with an obscene amounts of alcohol. I could take it back then. We would go to work in our downtown Nashville office, walk out the doors at five, go “Honkey-Tonkin*, stay out until 4:00 am, cab home, sleep for 2 hours, get up, throw on makeup and be at work at 8:00 am. That would happen at least once a month. On the other weeks, we would just party downtown on a Friday night, and roll home at like 3:30 am. No problem.
In those days, I could do what I would call “down weekends”. I would get home from work on a Friday night, get into pajamas, and not get out of those pajamas until Monday morning. The weekend was spent in bed, eating randomly, napping regularly and drinking martinis while binge watching countless hours of "Say Yes to the Dress" or some other stupid wedding show on Bravo. It was glorious. Once I almost burned down our house because I decided to make soup out of a roaster chicken, forgot it was on the stove, passed out, and was only awoken when the fire alarm went off and the house was filled with smoke. Apparently chicken carcasses don't do well in just a pot with all the water evaporated. It took 4 hours to clear the house of smoke, and 4 days to get rid of the smell. I am surprised my husband still married me.
In any case, down weekends were the bomb. It didn't matter if my sleep bank was low, I could just fill it up again over a weekend. A few naps, a late rise...and wallah! Total renewal.
Then...I had kids. And honestly, I haven't fucking slept in 5 years. From pregnancy, to infancy, to the introduction of the toddler bed accompanied by the 3:00 am "Mommy can I snuggle?" request that turns into your bed being taken over by a horizontal sleeper - and then you repeat with the second kid. My sleep bank is so in debt, I may never get back in the black. Yet somehow, we moms persevere.
Our kids will cry, cough, whine, scream, sing, talk to imaginary friends and downright refuse to sleep, yet we, somehow, can handle that shit and still function at work the next day. I won't lie here - I pretty much can't party anymore, because regardless of how much fun having cocktails with friends may be, the 5:00 am creepy kid standing next to your bed breathing in your face so you wake up will be there...watching...waiting. Hangovers are just not possible; there is literally not a single peaceful moment ever to just recover.
I miss sleep. I dream of kid free vacations where all I do is have a couple cocktails, take an Ambien, and sleep for like 15 hours. Some people wish for a European tour, I wish for a fluffly mattress with 6 totally dedicated pillows on a bed I don't have to make, blissfully dreaming about exotic locales...And a body eraser that could just easily remove all my cellulite.
I wonder if it ever comes back. I mean, after this, don't we have to worry about our kids for the rest of our lives? Do we just need to remain sleep deprived for ever? Only time will tell. In the meantime, let's just assume I will be needing the biggest cup of tea you have ever seen every AM, cuz my shit may fall over from exhaustion.
Foul mouthed, outspoken and pretty much an eternal realist.