Attack of the zombie lady

I am fatigue girl. For the past two weeks, Ben has woken up at 3 most nights and stayed awake until 5. He's not unhappy, he's babbling and singing and whooping it up and it gets louder and louder until we go and get him and bring him in for some milk and cuddles. When we put him back in his crib, he continues the partying. Steve falls back to sleep quite quickly, but I stay awake and usually fall back to sleep sometime just before I have to get up. I've become one of those walking zombie people, the kind that I curse when I'm trying to get somewhere and they're sitting in their cars at green lights not moving. It's a hazy existence, somewhat unreal. All I really need is a long weekend like the one coming to rest and recharge. Oh wait, who else is navigating through aviation hell this weekend taking a toddler on two planes and a stopover at a large airport? Raise your hands? Crap, I thought there would be more of us. The last time we took Ben on planes, he was crawling and cruising, not exactly the running man he's become today. You put him down anywhere now and he bolts. He loves running at full tilt through open spaces, without a thought to where he's going or if we're following. This is fine at home and the park, but in a crowded airport, the thought makes my heart do running leaps at my throat. My only hope is that we can anchor him to something heavy, that will at least slow his progress. If you see me on Tuesday with my head on my drool-covered desk, cover me with a blanket and let me sleep for a week, preferably with pay.