Why can’t I sleep? I’m exhausted. All. The. Time. Yet, here I sit, at 3 AM, blogging about sleep, instead of actually sleeping. I did sleep tonight. I probably passed out around 10:30, while I was getting up the gumption to get off the couch and into the shower. I remember thinking, “If I’m asleep by 11:00, I’ll get 6 1/2 hours of sleep.” Then, oblivion.
My eyes popped open at 2:40 AM. Four hours of sleep, back hurting, and wide awake. Why????
Today, I will find myself staring off into space at work while I’m waiting for the sinks to fill with soapy water, rinse water, and sanitizer–the sound of the water either lulling me to sleep or inspiring a visit to the bathroom. I’ll drop things–I always do. I’ll walk in a circle at least 3 times–forgetting what I’m looking for or what storage room to find it in. I’ll ask a dumb question–or 10. I’m afraid I’ve got a reputation at work of being a klutz or just an airhead. I want to plead my case.
“I’m not a ditz. I’m EXHAUSTED and I HURT!”
But I laugh. It’s easier and consumes less energy. I have a limited supply.
After work, I’ll go to the library or the Starbucks to wait for my kids to get out of school. I’ll sit and try to read or write a little something. I will nod off. The other day at the library, I was sitting there, pretending to read, when I did one of those nod off, almost fall out of the chair maneuvers. Humiliation.
When I get home, the noise of five children and the television will feel like a million tiny elves stabbing a million tiny ice picks into my brain. I will mutter to myself in the kitchen while preparing dinner, complaining to the air, as no one is listening. They’re too busy talking and breathing too loud. I will snap at one of the kids for something. They may or may not deserve it.
Dinner will be consumed, baths will be had, fights will be broken up. Baby girl will wage her nightly war with sleep, surrendering once she’s in my arms and we both crash on the couch. The difference is she will remain asleep and I’ll awake four hours later, stiff from holding her and rested enough to not be able to fall back asleep. Not rested enough to get anything productive done.
A couple of hours watching mindless television, a load of laundry (there’s always a load of laundry waiting), or like tonight,
whining blogging about NOT sleeping. I’ll eventually go back to bed for a couple of hours. Then, just when I’m reaching the all-important deep sleep stage, the alarm will go off. I’ll begin the ordeal of waking up five children and getting to school and work on time.
Then I’ll be at work again, walking in circles, dropping stuff, and building my reputation as an airhead.