by Cathy
Since I am on a roll about the lack of sleep I am getting due to my neighbors and city living, I thought it appropriate to round out my Insomniac Trilogy by talking about what prevents me from getting any sleep in my own bedroom. Yes. I'm going there.
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| Sleepless nights, partly due to the antics of Mr. Christian Grey |
I knowingly prolong my sleep window of opportunity by getting caught up in THE trilogy of the moment: Fifty Shades of Grey. I say to myself that I'll only read "a few pages just so that I can calm myself down" and get me in the mood for sleep, but if you've read any Shade of the Grey trilogy, it elicits the exact opposite effect. Nonetheless, as the clock trudges relentlessly towards midnight, I force myself to earmark the salacious page I'm on and begin coaxing the slumber out from deep within my exhausted bones. I settle in next to my snoring-to-high-heaven husband for what I hope and pray will be a restful night's sleep.
Blink. Blink. Blink. Blinkety blink. I can almost hear my eyes blinking. I wish I could be like my husband, who conks out as soon as his head hits the pillow. But, no. I have to play and re-play the day in my head, analyze, re-analyze, think, re-think, plan, re-plan, mentally write and re-write tomorrow's to-do's, worry, freak-out and toss and turn and get up to make sure I: didn't forget any laundry in the washing machine; make sure I turned on the dryer; remembered to thaw meat for tomorrow's dinner; check on the girls to make sure they aren't too hot or too cold; adjust the windows, make sure the doors are locked and anything else you can think of. Oh yeah...by now...I have to pee.
I am convinced that at the point my sleep window closed, the hormone door was swung wide open. Thus, a mix of: stayed up way too late + Far Too Many Shades of Grey + hormones + Joe's snoring + the incessant thoughts springing up in my head = me falling asleep somewhere in the vicinity of 2 a.m.....which....is right around the time Ari wakes up.
Pitter patter pitter patter. Just as I am dozing off, I hear her little feet coming towards our bedroom down the hallway and my stomach sinks. As my body is jarred fully awake and once again has veered off the course of sleep, my nerves are now shooting electric currents through my body and my eyes start to sting. Immediately I know I have to decide between three options:1) scoop her up and take her back to lay with her until she falls asleep again 2) let her sleep there while I try to sleep there or 3) just leave her there and I go sleep in her bed.
Since option #1 is too much work and option #2 has resulted in little fists and feet landing on my face and poking me in places that jerk me angrily awake and have me looking like a baggy-eyed, bruised up version of myself, I instinctively go for option #3.
As I shuffle into Ari's fluffy pink bed, I make yet another mental note about picking up some Nyquil and Tylenol P.M. on my next store visit. Oh...and some toilet paper. And some...
