Don't Lose Sleep Over It

 Have you ever gone into your child’s room at night, long after they’ve entered dreamland, watching how sweet they are in slumber? So quiet. So peaceful. So quiet. Sleeping the sleep only children manage to achieve, making you wish that you could achieve that level of REM? No? Just me then?

For the most part, I’ve accepted all of the things that I have gained as I’ve gotten older. Wisdom. Hair that grows too fast, often in places I don’t want it. Gray hairs sneaking up on me. What haven’t I learned to deal with you ask? (Spoiler alert: It’s probably mentioned in the opening paragraph.) That’s right, it’s beautiful, uninterrupted sleep.

Children could sleep on a cot half their size with a lumpy pillow and an orphan Annie threadbare blanket and have the most amazing night’s sleep they’ve EVER had. They can sleep on a floor, in a sleeping bag, with NO pillow, and snag a blissful 8 hours of shut eye. Heck, give them a backpack for a pillow and a sweatshirt for a blanket and they can snag a full night of z’s.

Of course, these are the people who need sleep the least.

Does it anger me that the people who have the most energy, regardless of how many of their forty winks they’ve had, are the ones who can sleep effortlessly, anywhere and anytime, without a single encumbrance? Now why would you think that? What gave it away? Was it the bitterness of my words or my sarcastic tone?

I can sleep in a bed, with 3 pillows, (including my body pillow) a fan for white noise and temperature regulation, and a seasonally appropriate blanket and barely manage 6 hours. If it’s not my bladder waking me up, it’s the never ending thought processes that apparently don’t shut down during my brain’s off hours, that lead to weird stress induced dreams that leaving me wondering what the hell kind of party my brain cells have while I’m unconscious. Sometimes, I can’t fall back to sleep because I’m trying to a.) Figure out what in my life led to the psychedelic mind meld that dream I just had was or b.) What the exact level of crazy is required to check yourself into the asylum because I might just qualify if these nocturnal brain movies are any indication.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, my sad attempts at temperature regulation are an epic failure since I never seem to achieve that perfect balance. It’s too hot (throw off the blanket). But the fan is blowing on me now, so I’m cold (cover up again). But now I’m hot again and want the air from the fan (throw off the blanker). Oops, nope, too much cool air on me (throw the blanket over half my torso). Ok, better but still kinda hot (cover rest of torso but uncover feet).

Probably the worst sleep interrupter are the debilitating leg cramps that like to attack between 2:00-3:00 a.m. You know the ones. You stretch your leg out in your sleep and a muscle takes offense and instantly spasms or cramps so hard that you have to jump out of bed and run around your room whimpering, trying to get it to go away…yeah, those kind. They’re super fun and I seem to get them more now than ever.

Every once in a while I will manage the perfect temperature, quiet brain waves and a steel bladder…only to wake up with a crick in my neck from sleeping wrong. Sleeping WRONG! Sleeping, something so simple even a minutes old baby can do it, but my ancient ass can’t get the hang of it. Never mind the four plus decades we’ve had to practice. I can sleep like a baby for 7 hours but there’s a good chance that I’m going to pay for it in my back, my neck, or both. (Sometimes they like to tag team me and make me feel 30 years older than I am.)

And boy, do non-sleepers love to hear when other people can’t sleep too! Not because we’re mean, but because we want to know that we aren’t alone. Misery loves company for a reason and if the sandman is skipping our house, he damn well better be skipping others as well. We want to know that there are other exhausted schlubs out there suffering along with us.

So the next time that you’re doing a paranoid-is-he-breathing check, and you find yourself being wistful of your child’s inherent ability to ride those snooze waves all the way to slumberville, just remember: They’re not tall enough to reach your chocolate stash. It’s a small consolation prize, but it’s yours.

Need even more modernmommayhem in your life? 

Find me on FaceBook (modernmommayhem)

Or check me out on Instagram (@modernmommayhem)

Want to send me a personal note, a comment, or share one of your funny parenting stories? Bring it on! Email me at modernmommayhem@gmail.com