Posts Tagged ‘Sleep’

Perhaps I’m Destined To Be The One To Write This Book . . . AFTER I’ve Gotten More Rest

April 6, 2018

Something fiction involving parenthood actually prepares you for:  The nigh-inevitable “child not wanting to be alone coming into your room in the middle of the night” moment.

Something some fiction involving parenthood sort of prepares you for:  The moment when you child begins do their best to recreate their room in yours so they can sleep better when they do finally go to sleep and let you sleep again as well.

Something fiction involving parenthood tends to gloss over:  That moment when you are pressed against the wall and tangled in a Frankenstein-like creation of covers, some of you hot and some of you cold, but all of you unwilling to move lest you wake the child that has kept you awake for over an hour now.

Something I know fiction involving parenthood has never mentioned:  The moment when at long last you get back to sleep as well and lapse into a fitful dream involving creepy crawly things and your child brushes their foot against you at the perfect time to startle you awake once more.

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Making It Over The Lake (Part Three)

January 22, 2016

Lala, you see, had earlier stumbled into the same basic situation that I had just stumbled into, complete with the same sense of disorientation and confusion, but with one important difference.  When she came upon my son, he turned to her and asked one of his reflexive questions whenever he knows I’m nearby, but doesn’t know which precise square meter of the house I happen to be at that moment in time.  He asked her, “Where’s my dad?”

In that moment the strangeness of the situation took on a decidedly dark turn for her since she didn’t know where I was.

She figured it all out pretty quickly, I’m happy to say, but the whole experience left us both on edge, a lot more on edge than we would have been had I just been hit by my usual “flying alarm clock.”

But at least we made it over the lake, right?

Making It Over The Lake (Part Two)

January 21, 2016

Then, as I suspect most parents would since I didn’t sense any problems, I went back to sleep.  (It’s rare, but my son does on occasion sleep . . . not “late” exactly, but later than his norm.)

Waking up again (still sans pouncing) was a disorienting experience though.

I looked at the time, and though I still didn’t sense anything “wrong,” something was decidedly . . . different; I just couldn’t consciously put my finger on what it was.  So I stumbled out of bed, passed Lala on the living room couch without even noticing she was there, and into the family room to behold my son quietly watching his movie.  (It was the sound of his movie I was too sleepy at the time to identify before this point.)

To say I was confused here would be understating it.  This may be hard for some without young children to understand, but for me this was a like finding the dog in the process of cleaning up after herself, then her looking me in the eye and saying, “I’ve got this.  Don’t worry about it.”  Far from unpleasant, just profoundly . . . unexpected.

I got off easy though.  It was Lala who hit the tree on this one.

Making It Over The Lake (Part One)

January 20, 2016

The “lake” of my recent years has been sleep, and while my son has, for the moment at least, stopped waking me in the middle of the night, he currently functions for me as what others have described as “the world’s worst alarm clock,” and I never know how far over the lake of sleep I’ll make it before I’m rudely awakened by him pouncing on me.  Even on the days I get to “sleep in,” in practical terms what that really means is that I get to go back to sleep after the pounce.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday his mother not only successfully intercepted him pre-pounce (Having only occasionally managed to intercept him myself, I know how difficult this trick is.), but convinced him to let me sleep unless he actually needed something.  He’s certainly old enough to do this by now, so she left for work while he watched a movie.  Not knowing any of this, I heard her leave (I usually do), and waited for the pounce.

And waited.

And waited . . .

I Suggested She Sleep On It

March 26, 2015

“Lately I’ve been noticing that despite any plans I have to sleep earlier, I don’t actually end up making it to bed until it’s 12:21 precisely,” L’s Mother told me last night.  “I don’t know if that’s significant or just palindromic.”

Put Another Way, I’m Going Back To Bed Now

January 15, 2015

Sleep is that golden chain that ties health and our bodies together.

Thomas Dekker

Judging By The Look Of Their Mugs

April 16, 2014

I just realized that I have started to judge if it’s a good time to ask someone around here for something by how full the mug in front of them is. The fuller the mug, the less time they’ve had to sit in peace to drink it, and the more likely I’ll get a better response if I give them a bit more time before asking.

(On an unrelated note, I really need to start making Candles & Curses my evening thoughts, not my morning thoughts. Lately my morning thoughts all seem to be revolving around sleep, coffee and/or the lack thereof . . .)

Even When It’s NOT Innuendo

January 8, 2014

I don’t care what anybody else says, sometimes the sexiest thing a woman can whisper to you, particularly in the morning, is “Would you like to sleep in?”

And It’s DEFINITELY To Early For Me To Sleep Again . . .

October 4, 2013

Sleep – the most beautiful experience in life – except drink.

W.C. Fields

Things DO Change (Part Two)

September 17, 2013

For most of my life I struggled with an erratic sleep schedule, meaning, in other words, that getting out of bed at a precise time was always a challenge . . . and one I frequently failed.  Oh, I never missed a shift at work or an appointment or anything like that, but if there was any flexibility in my schedule, no matter how important getting up at a particular time was to me before I went to sleep, it was significantly less important to me by the time the alarm went off.  Insomnia was a frequent result/cause of this.

Then my son was born, and insomnia became a luxury I could no longer afford, and sleep became a precious, precious commodity that was always in short supply.  Now that he’s older, time to sleep is something I have more reliably, but I still can’t afford insomnia because most days require me to not only be awake at a particular time, but alert enough to function at a “watching toddler” level.  Even those days when someone else is getting up with him, I find myself waking up automatically around 6:45 to 7:15 just to make sure I don’t need to get up, then go back to sleep, and if my eyes fly open at 7:35, my first thought is “I overslept!”

So yeah . . . things definitely change.