You know how they say the effects of sleep deprivation are similar to alcohol impairment? All it takes is less than six hours sleep to leave you schnockered enough to fail a breathalyzer test if there was a breathalyzer test for sleep deprivation.
Yeah.
Well, then for the last seven years I parented drunk.
Six good, solid hours of sleep? In a row? What’s that? Becoming inebriated three or four times a week qualifies a person as an alcoholic. At least three or four nights a week I don’t get enough sleep. I’m not just a little impaired from sleep deprivation, I’m a lush. I might as well hire Virginia Woolf to babysit for me.
Experts claim lack of sleep affects coordination, reaction time and judgment just like alcohol. This explains a lot.
Like when I left the ice cream in the cupboard. Overnight. Or why I can’t remember my kids’ birthdays when they ask at the pharmacy. How about the time I drove safely home on icy roads through a snow storm then slid into the fence in my own driveway? And why do I let Wade drink red juice in the room with the beige carpet even though the outcome is always disastrous? I routinely put Wade’s shoes on backwards. Also, I can’t win at Wii tennis for anything.
I probably shouldn’t be left alone to supervise small children. Would you let an intoxicated babysitter watch your kids?
The thing is sleep deprivation doesn’t drown your sorrows, invoke false feelings of well-being or make you want to sing karaoke. It’s more like being an angry drunk about to pass out on the couch at any moment. And no one is up at three a.m. with a two year old watching Caillou just for fun.
They say you shouldn’t drink alone, but sleep deprivation is a lonely and solitary affair. No one gets up with you to feed the baby in the middle of the night.
If only there were a Promises treatment center for sleepless parents. Sterile, white, fingerprint-free walls. Quiet corners. Time to actually form a complete thought. Trips to the bathroom alone. People asking, “How does that makes you feel,” instead of whining for a cookie. 28 days of naps and 28 nights of deep slumber.
Check me in! Wait. No. I’ll check myself in.
Don’t be surprised if I relapse and go back every year.
Linked up with Finding the Funny at My Life and Kids.
Check me in with you! I think you’ve got it right, I can be like an angry drunk sometimes. We just need some quiet for 8 hours or so!
THIS. So much this. I recently tried to explain to a friend of mine who is kidless that I haven’t had 3 nights of 6+hours of sleep strung together in over a year and she was flabbergasted. Couldn’t understand it or how I was functional… yeah neither can i.
Yeah, it’s something you just can’t understand until you experience it.
I have this dream about moving into my parent’s house for a weekend. In their guest bedroom, with cable tv and a fluffly down comforter. Sleeping, waking up and watching soapnetwork, falling back to sleep over and over for 48 hours. I would only leave the bed to use the restroom or get a fattening snack…that I would eat in bed. Just once. I just need it once. Found you on Finding the Funny!
A weekend like that would be heaven!
If there was such a rehab, the waiting list would be so long that everyone’s kids would be grown before you got admitted!
Ha! It would be a looooong waiting list!
I LOVE how you compared it to being an angry drunk. Ha! So true! I will have the 6 hour mark seared in my brain. I have had many less than 6 hour nights. Yuck!
(Thanks for linking up at #findingthefunny!)