Oh, the joy of mid-life insomnia....
I'll blame it on hormone imbalance. Thankfully, after visiting my doc, that will straighten out soon. Sometimes though, I wonder if the silence of the wee hours of the morning calls to me loudly, "Come sit on the sofa. Read, write, toast a slice of bread with butter, steep a cup of tea." Usually at home, I am too distracted by duties to sit down and read. I was born a mult-tasker, can't just do one thing at a time. Jammies, mug in hand, and a snoring household is so inviting. Honestly, rarely do I view what the house looks like in daylight, from any other vantage point besides the kitchen counter.
Before planting on the couch, I remember the need for reading glasses, rummaging through my purse. Don't want to tip toe back in and wake Rob.
This night's reading session begins at 1:30 am. By 5:30, I figure, "What's the use in sleeping now. It will just be agony to get up at 6:30."
After the kids leave for school, I hurry to make it on time to work. I'm spoiled. My daughter Katie wrote in a poem about me in a line,
Dad lets Susan come late after nine, because her smile is divine.
The phone rings. It's Beth complaining of a stomach ache. "Ok, I'll be right there."
I pick up Beth and run by the high school to drop off a check for a senior sentiment in the yearbook. I bring her home to settle in pj's, then I go to work.
After work, scoot to the grocery for frozen pizza. By now, I'm not wanting to lay out a gourmet meal. I arrive home and Beth has cleaned up the kitchen. Wow!
Somehow, I'm revived and venture outside in shorts and sneakers. The sun is warm and in October, it won't be long before nobody will be wearing short anything. I feel like running.
Rob drives me to the school to pick up our cheerleaders. In the meantime, I run. I breeze through a swarm of North Carolina gnats and swat them away with the finesse of a martial artist.
After that patch, rythmn feels good. I plow up the last hill by the middle school, having finished a rosary devotion in my head.
We eat our pizza and salad, with a glass of Red Truck Merlot. My girls are trying hard to please in cleaning up, after being nagged to death about not wiping out the sink the night before and forgetting to start the dishwasher.
I descend to the basement where Mark is lifting weights with his friend Weston. I outfit his bed in clean sheets that got washed twice today (boy sheets). A friendly eavesdropper, relishing every bit of their banter, I know that this time next year, Mark will be away at college somewhere.
I peruse Mark's bookshelf and find Tolkien's, The Hobbit and announce to Beth that I found the book. I submerge in a bubble bath, and Beth begins the first chapter, tubside. Beth then takes her bath as I describe the life of Bilbo Baggins. We end up in the bed with Rob draped across the end, elbow propping his smiling face. He loves Tolkien.
He takes a turn reading, and I fall asleep.
I had been awake for nearly 20 hours.
My butt is considered officially, "kicked".