Some of that is Cheetah of course.
It isn't that I'm not sleeping, now that Cheetah is here. It's that I'm not sleeping the same as I did before he arrived.
I used to be a really good sleeper.
It took me only a few minutes to snuggle down into my pillow and I was asleep. And once I was out, I slept for the whole night. Tarzan could snore, the neighbors could party and play loud music, the cats could fight, sirens, man hunts, none of it bothered me. I didn't nap unless I was sick and I would feel loopy after having one. I couldn't understand my mother who would fall asleep seconds after sitting in a chair, particularly during movies or TV or conversations.
I apologize very sincerely to my mother.
These days I still fall asleep easily. In fact, I'm dropping off nearly every time I sit down.
Naps are a blessed gift and I take them whenever possible. But I also wake up at the slightest noise. If Cheetah coughs in the middle of the night, I'm halfway across the room before I'm conscious.
I wake up if the neighbors turn on a light in their room.
I'm pretty sure I'm missing my REM sleep or something equally as vital.
The other night I woke up convinced I had fallen asleep with Cheetah on my chest, so I carried him carefully across the room and straight into a wall. Turned out, it was my pillow I was handling so gingerly and I was disoriented enough to mistake the mirror on the closet door for the door of the bedroom.
Despite the fact Cheetah has never slept in our bed, I frequently wake up convinced I've dropped him on the floor - it's always my pillow - or sure that I'm smothering him and end up frantically digging Tarzan's shoulder out from under the blankets.
I'm not sure what the surge of adrenaline is supposed to accomplish at 2am but I've got some to spare.
This is me and I don't dream like I used to either.