I’m writing this in the middle of the night. More specifically, between 3:30 – 6:30 a.m., when I’m consistently wide the fuck awake! Flopping back and forth fires up my creativity. Poetic prose pours out of me like a leaky faucet…drip, drip, drip. Trouble is, I can’t remember shit.

It’s mildly amusing (for about 10 seconds) that our 30’s and 40’s are spent in a sleep deprived parenting hell. Now that our kids are fully grown, we pray to the sister Gawd for a solid eight hours. Seems her holiness has a sense of humour. Rumour has it she banged out Isn’t It Ironic for Alanis. Who would’ve thought, it figures.

We’re beyond pooped when they’re babies. Stretched out on the hard kitchen floor, you were guaranteed a six minute catnap while the little fuckers flicked pureed carrots at you. We’d foolishly squeeze in a little fun (day drink much?) when the kids were in elementary, and pay for it dearly with a soused slumber.

From Jr. High until they launch, we lie awake anxiously listening for them to arrive home safely; unmangled and unpregnant. You’d think by now, with all dues paid in full, a girl would finally be able to catch a few winks. Nope! I have a condition that makes me eat when I can’t sleep called insom-nom-nom-nom-nia.

First comes the blanket tango to Katy Perry’s Hot N Cold. Urine trouble when a full throttle whiz breaks the seal for a sprinkle tinkle (or two). There’s 752 irrelevant thoughts cycling through your head provoking heart palpitations. Maybe your log sawing, fly catching bed partner would sleep better with the pillow tied tightly to his face.

And then there’s the clock…ticking away sanity one tock at a time. We’re all aware of the sleep regimen mantra: no alcohol, no screens, no caffeine, blah, blah, blah. Sometimes it’s easier to accept the fact that your REM peaked at age 19. It’s the end of the world as we know it.

My deepest sleep is between 7:30 – 10:30 a.m., when the bed is all mine. I used to feel guilty about sleeping in, but my health is worth the extra zzz’s. It’s not lazy when it’s four days past your bedtime. Life is short, take the nap. It’s all too A.M for me!

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  1. Jodi

    Love it. Bang on

  2. Bonnie

    Exactly! I can so totally relate some nights. Especially the part about a pillow tied to your partners face! Haha.

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