2 Days in a Row

This may be some sort of record... but I don't want to jinx myself, so I'll stop at that.

Let's ponder this instead: why can I suddenly not sleep through the night?

Really, my whole routine has been off for a few years now. I used to be a night owl, working or whatever, until the wee hours. When I got pregnant with Ethan, that changed, but I chalked it up to pregnancy... only I've never gone back (completely) to the way I used to be. If I go with the whole theory of really sleepy at really early hours = pregnant/just gave birth/screaming baby, then I'm completely and totally up the creek because I'm done birthing babies.

These days, I'm doing good to be conscious at 10 PM. I fall asleep on the couch, in my spot (wedged between K and the cushions) and sleep soundly until he wakes me up to go to bed. I crawl under the covers, blissfully fall back asleep immediately after he kisses me good night... and wake up abou 2 or 3 am. Wide awake. No possibility of going back to sleep for at least an hour.

This is my dilemma. If I get up, I may wake up the slumbering beast that shares my bed. For whatever reason, he doesn't like to wake up and find me not in my spot.

So... I lay in bed and think about everything under the sun... what I have to do the next day, world peace, solutions to every possible international problem, the grocery list, what I want for Christmas....and then I REALLY can't go back to sleep because I've just planned out the perfect dinner party for 72 of our closest friends, and if I go to sleep, I'll forget it all.

(Have I mentioned that I planned Laney's nursery decor during one of my late night spells? After months of searching, it just came to me in the middle of the night.)

Sometimes, I just have to get up. Take our beach trip last week, for example. I woke up, dutifully, around 2 am. K was sound asleep (like he ever has any problem sleeping), so I lay in bed for about an hour, thinking. Finally, the need to pack the suitcases was so great that I just had to get up.

It's 3 am on Tybee Island, and I'm packing suitcases. Folding. Arranging. Organizing.

What is wrong with this picture????

Now, I'm not quiet. It's dark. I'm stumbling over furniture, tossing clothes around, freaking out when I find that my tennis shoes (which haven't moved all week) are WEBBED to the floor... like with lots of spider web...Have I mentioned that I H.A.T.E spiders?..., but K. slumbers on, unaware.

I'm telling you, he could make sleeping an Olympic sport.

Anyway, he said he didn't wake up because he could sense my presence. (Whatever.)

I need to know where he thinks I'd be at 3 am. He has no answer for this. I think he may be a closet Scared-of-Being-Alone-in-the-Dark candidate... but I have no proof.

Back to the point.

Most nights, I just lay there, thinking, until I think myself into a comatose state and sort of fall back asleep... but by then, I've lost prime sleep time...which does not translate into a Happy Morning Amy.

I'm not on medicine. I don't exercise before bed (or ever, really). I drink caffeine all the time (love my D.C.), so I don't think that's it.

Is this a part of getting older? I mean, I've come to terms with the fact that I like things now, like greens and English peas, that I wouldn't have touched with a mile-long pole growing up. Must I come to terms with sleeping issues, too?

Good grief. I turn 3-0 in a few months. Is this what I have to look forward to?