As I have dragged on and on while waking up through the night with Benjamin, it occurred to me that I probably should just go to bed earlier. I'm often complaining come 9pm that I'm tired, I have a headache, I'm exhausted, or something in that vein. Then James turns to me and tells me to go to bed.
But I don't. You see, as an introvert, I need this time, awake, when I can just sit without people needing me. Time to read or write or do my own thing. I relish this time I have to myself, and I can't seem to give up that last hour yet! I keep telling myself why go to bed at 10pm when I will have to wake at 11:00 anyway to nurse Benjamin. I might as well just stay up.
So there exists this hazy goal/idea in the back of my mind that I really should readjust my thinking, watch the 10pm CBC news instead, and pack it in there. That way when I have to get up at 6am with the boys, I've at least be in bed for 8 hours. (Benjamin still nurses at 11pm, 2am and 5am, but that's a different matter.)
Sometimes I think we are masters of our own demises. I guess what this all really means is that if I insist on staying up, I should at least stop complaining.