I often talk about how I get no sleep. The struggle is most definitely real. Things have gotten worse since moving back east. The move definitely threw the wildlings off their game and created a mandatory middle of the night migration into Mommy’s bed every night. While I’m a big fan of co-sleeping, I’m not a fan of sharing my bed with kicking, pushing, squirming, tossing, turning littles. The Boo is not so bad but the Bean… let’s just say I wake up with a foot to the head or elbow to the face about once an hour.
I had finally gotten the wild children to stay in their own beds the whole night long, even to the point of me having to wake them up for school, but this past weekend I jacked that up big time. I left them… overnight… with a babysitter! Oh the horror, I know. Everyone survived but it regressed them to the point where they’re finding their way into my bed even wee-er into the wee hours of the morning (which begs the question, what would be the wee-est hour? But I digress…). So we’re back to me not sleeping and waking to a roundhouse kick to the face by my darling little girl on a frequent basis. It’s awesome.
Last night kicked things up a notch when something happened that only happens once in a blue moon for me… as in, once every 2-3 years. I was ever so gently (ha) awoken by my dear darling girl who not only crawled into bed with me but her little body somehow pushed me within an inch of my life on the edge of my bed. I’d upgrade to a King size but I don’t think it will help, I will still be evicted to the edge by the wildlings. In any case, I woke up, apparently looked at the clock and did all of those negotiations and calculations that one does when half asleep and can barely figure out one’s own name let alone how much time there is to snooze before they’re really late for work. I somehow calculated that it was time to get up and shower. Groggily, I dragged myself into the shower and, while in there, woke up to a normal level of morning alert. I got out, applied all the creams, potions, and magic powders one applies and marched back to my room to dress for the day.
You can imagine my shock, horror, and confusion when I looked at my alarm clock and read very clearly, very alertly the green glow of 1:40 AM. Insomniac says WHAT?? I did it again. I woke up in a delirium, assumed it was time to wake up, and got into the shower. The first time I did this I was in high school and my mom came to the bathroom to find out what the heck I was doing in the shower at midnight. The last time I did this I was in Seattle in my new apartment just after the separation. It happens sometimes, but not very often. And when it does it totally messes with my head. Naturally, upon the horrifying discovery that I had woken up a mere 2 hours into my night’s sleep and fully showered, shaved, and slathered, I put on some fresh jammies and went right back to sleep, wet head and all.
When the actual morning actually came, I reflected upon my late night activities. For one hot minute, I was actually PROUD of myself. Why, you ask? Because I felt rested, awake, and alert enough to start my day after only 2 hours of sleep. I thought, OK yeah I got this, I don’t need sleep. I don’t get it anyways so this is a relief, right? Pshhhht, this sleep thing is for the birds. So that hot minute didn’t last too long as I was a zombie at my office desk by 10:00am. Even after copious amounts of coffee and breakfast to help fuel me out of the zombie-like fatigue I faced for the entire day. That one shining moment, I felt that I’d won out over sleep, but the verdict continues to stand that sleep wins out over me. In other words, I lose because I lose out on sleep.
But I will persevere. And one day, one glorious day, I will know sleep again and we will be as one. At least for more than a few scant hours at a time.