Ahh, sleep
Winter break was glorious. We slept as late as we liked. We spent the few days after New Year's Day trying to get back on schedule.
But when the alarm went off yesterday morning I thought I had been hit by a truck. The cats had been unusually rowdy in the night, and I don't sleep well to begin with. After the kids left for school, I tried to go back to sleep. An hour later I gave up, and resigned myself to a day of low energy and feeling like crap.
I planned some good sleep hygiene. I laid out something comfy and warm to sleep in, and bought a fresh new box of Sleepytime Tea.
Then, while standing in front of the stove stirring spaghetti sauce, the power suddenly went out. Thrust into immediate darkness, with the flame under the pot the only light, my son immediately came to my side and placed his hand in mine. Mommy. Dark. Scary.
The lighter I keep by the stove was out of fluid, and our home is hopelessly disorganized. I found a flashlight, but the batteries were dead. I keep a working flashlight in my car, so we went outside. The entire neighborhood was dark, and the neighbors were quietly out in the street with flashlights. Ten minutes later I had found a working lighter and all the candles that still have accessible wicks. I replaced the porch light with a rechargeable LED lantern, so the rest of my family wouldn't have to stumble in the dark when they returned home. Halfway through our candlelight supper, the power was restored. We kept the lights out though, because the candlelight was so pretty.
Later I steeped my herbal tea in hot skim milk, and took a warm shower before climbing into bed exactly eight hours before I planned to wake up. My dear husband dutifully followed suit, sympathetic to my misery of that morning. I lay there, listening to his breath deepen, feeling him slip into sleep next to me. "Lucky guy," I thought. Eventually, I did fall asleep, and awakened at least three times in the night. I think that is just the way I sleep at this phase in my life. Eight hours of uninterrupted sleep is not a reality for me.
Nine hours and ten minutes after climbing into bed, I heard my son's school bus at the curb in front of the house. My husband said, "Oops. I did reset the clocks. Something must have gone wrong." He had set the time and the alarm correctly, except that the clock said the time was 7:40 p.m., not a.m.
But I felt great. We took shortcuts in our morning routine. My husband ate his bagel standing up. With a smile, I apologized to the bus driver, gave lunch money to the boys, and drove them to school.
I've decide that to get a good night's sleep, the key is to realize that I spend part of the time in bed trying to get back to sleep. So I must increase the time I spend in bed beyond my actual sleep needs. If I can't sleep in, I need an earlier bed time. No more late tv for me. Consistent sleep hygiene will help, too.
But when the alarm went off yesterday morning I thought I had been hit by a truck. The cats had been unusually rowdy in the night, and I don't sleep well to begin with. After the kids left for school, I tried to go back to sleep. An hour later I gave up, and resigned myself to a day of low energy and feeling like crap.
I planned some good sleep hygiene. I laid out something comfy and warm to sleep in, and bought a fresh new box of Sleepytime Tea.
Then, while standing in front of the stove stirring spaghetti sauce, the power suddenly went out. Thrust into immediate darkness, with the flame under the pot the only light, my son immediately came to my side and placed his hand in mine. Mommy. Dark. Scary.
The lighter I keep by the stove was out of fluid, and our home is hopelessly disorganized. I found a flashlight, but the batteries were dead. I keep a working flashlight in my car, so we went outside. The entire neighborhood was dark, and the neighbors were quietly out in the street with flashlights. Ten minutes later I had found a working lighter and all the candles that still have accessible wicks. I replaced the porch light with a rechargeable LED lantern, so the rest of my family wouldn't have to stumble in the dark when they returned home. Halfway through our candlelight supper, the power was restored. We kept the lights out though, because the candlelight was so pretty.
Later I steeped my herbal tea in hot skim milk, and took a warm shower before climbing into bed exactly eight hours before I planned to wake up. My dear husband dutifully followed suit, sympathetic to my misery of that morning. I lay there, listening to his breath deepen, feeling him slip into sleep next to me. "Lucky guy," I thought. Eventually, I did fall asleep, and awakened at least three times in the night. I think that is just the way I sleep at this phase in my life. Eight hours of uninterrupted sleep is not a reality for me.
Nine hours and ten minutes after climbing into bed, I heard my son's school bus at the curb in front of the house. My husband said, "Oops. I did reset the clocks. Something must have gone wrong." He had set the time and the alarm correctly, except that the clock said the time was 7:40 p.m., not a.m.
But I felt great. We took shortcuts in our morning routine. My husband ate his bagel standing up. With a smile, I apologized to the bus driver, gave lunch money to the boys, and drove them to school.
I've decide that to get a good night's sleep, the key is to realize that I spend part of the time in bed trying to get back to sleep. So I must increase the time I spend in bed beyond my actual sleep needs. If I can't sleep in, I need an earlier bed time. No more late tv for me. Consistent sleep hygiene will help, too.