Running around after Dexie this morning, I feel like Kerry Katona after one of her binges. I have some triple vision going on that makes simply staring in the mirror more a horrific prospect than summoning the Candy Man to my living room.
Ironically I have two reviews due this week. One for memory foam pillows, and another for some bedding sets by The White Company. Strangely enough neither Craig and I feel much like writing these right now!
Over the last 69 hours, I’ve had a total of 11 hours sleep. Then, just last night, Craigy managed just two hours. Scarily Craig still got up at 5am and went to work (he drives for a living!). Looking at him this morning, I know he’s fine, but I still can’t wait to get him home at lunchtime and play doctors and nurses. I don’t dole out sympathy for man flu, but I’ll happily declare war on the Sandman for messing with my man.
My problem seems to be a result of a change in medication. As we’re trying for a baby, my doctor decided to switch some medication just in case we conceive. The new course of meds is supposed to be safer for baby. Since the switch I’ve had constant sickness, a metallic taste in my mouth, no appetite, and trouble winding down. If it wasn’t for a negative pregnancy test a week ago, I’d be prancing around my living room like a sugared-up 5 year-old meeting Mr Tumble for the first time.
Given I go downstairs when I can’t sleep and read my book, I try hard not to spread the misery to Craigy. Granted a decent book is like a double-edged sword. A law fan, I read true crime books and get completely OCD about them. As this insomnia has kicked in, I’ve found myself googling the case at 3am for newspaper transcripts, pictures, and even studying the profiles of the legal representatives involved. I’m not sure my doctor would advocate my writing my own legal arguments to rid the world of OJ Simpson in the wee hours…
In Craig’s case last night was therefore a mystery. We don’t drink hot drinks in the evenings, nor do we have any caffeine drinks. Dexter sleeps soundly from 9pm to 8am so doesn’t keep us up in the slightest. We both crawl into bed at 10pm and chat until 11pm before lights out - no tv. We’re not stressed about anything either! The only thing I can think of is that Craig has the family holiday to plan this year and is obsessive about it. He must have topped 100 hours research already this month in scouring websites and reading villa reviews. I’m constantly teasing him about it.
Parenting after a rough night’s sleep is the hardest job in the world so I’ve declared today to be Physical Education Day for Dexter. I’m hoping to tire him by setting obstacle courses throughout the house. The sofa cushions are scattered all over the floor and Dexter faces the prospect of the Baby Grand National. I’m hoping the result will be that he has some long naps today so I get over this jet-lag in relative quiet, with any luck he’ll be thirty odd steps closer to competing in the 2028 Olympics too. Here’s to an award-winning gymnastic floor-routine!
