Nosferatu! That's Me!

Every dictator has his thing. Some bomb their own people. Others choose to pillage or starve their people. T.D. she likes sleep deprivation. Stupidly I used to be able to smile and say, "Oh, T.D.? She sleeps through the night." Oh for days gone by.

Since Christmastime that child has probably managed three measly full nights of sleep. They are random and not being conditioned to them I still wake up fitfully through the night listening for the sounds of a cry. Last night though, was the last night. I can't deal with it anymore. The people of this land, all two of us, are taking back the night! After spending two hours trying to put her overtired ass down for the night, another new ploy she's using on us, I just decided I couldn't take it. Then the midnight hour tolled and she woke up. Same thing at 3 a.m. and then again at the lovely hour of 4 a.m. Why? Who the hell knows.

What I do know is that I feel like Nosferatu. The Willem Dafoe one, all twitchy and snarling. My shoulders are hunched, my eyes complete with dark circles. I snap and whine and have a tendency to cram odd foods into my piehole are random moments. This is what sleeplessness can do. During the night my overtired mind becomes wired after being awakened and it whirs to life with random thoughts. Whatever happened to Toaster Streudel? Who eats Elio's pizza anymore? Why are soccer balls black and white and not say gold and magenta? Do we have enough toilet paper in the house? What time does the city bus begin to run? Why is America running on Dunkin? When I do sleep I hear crying in my dreams. I can't quite tell if it's my sleepy spirit crying for more sleep or just the insessant sound of T.D. calling.

The thing is. There is NOTHING wrong with her. I go in there and sometimes she laughs at me. LAUGHS! Cruel dictator. Just cruel.