I was always a good sleeper. Back in my heyday, I would wake up after 9+ hours of sleep and still look forward to my nap. In fact, naps were the best part of my day.
That all changed about a week after November 4th, 2009, when I started peeing all the time. What was once 9+ hours of sleep became 3 blocks of 3-hour-stretches demarcated by groggy trips to the bathroom to pee. All the peeing (and my boobs growing even bigger...lame) indicated that I was pregnant.
And it's all been downhill from there. I'm coming up on my 5-year anniversary of sleep deprivation. "But Scarlett," you ask, "don't you have a 4-year-old son who sleeps through the night?" And if you were here, I would laugh and then ugly cry because NO, he doesn't sleep through the night. He has never once in his short little life slept a full 8 hours in one night. Roman, a 5-month-old, wakes up only once a night, which is about 1 or 2 times less than Desmond on any given night.
But whatevs. I'm used to it now. Current wake up time? 5:45 am. Current bed time? 10:30 at the latest. Current addiction? Coffee, since 2011. My body has finally almost adjusted and I'm a better mother because of it. But there are some days...my God, how I would give up eating cheese for a week for the ability to sleep through the night. Those days, when I wake up with a bitchy resting face and throw the covers off the bed with such anger, I go to the bathroom, pee, automatically take a shower (because there is no better morale boost than a long, hot, quiet shower), and strike this pose: