Proof That I Need More Sleep

I get into a really bad habit where I have a ton that needs to be done so I stay up late working on it. Then the alarm goes off in the morning, and I'm still tired. I manage to get through the day, but I'm slightly less productive, so that's more work to do after the wee ones go to bed. Generally, this works out alright, even though I'm one of those people who really does best with more than eight hours of sleep.

Every once in awhile, this habit catches up with me and my body - or maybe my brain - screams at me that I need to get some more sleep. This week? Yeah... I need some more sleep.

When I woke up Wednesday, I wanted to go back to bed, but I didn't. Instead I got up and got the wee ones ready for school. I fixed their breakfast, got out their vitamins, packed their lunches, and we headed out the door.

After dropping the wee ones at their respective schools, I headed to the gym as I do most days. Even when I'm tired and can't do my full workout, I can at least do something, I decided awhile ago. I popped into the locker room and started grabbing my clothes to change. I had just done wash and was happy that - tired as I was - I remembered to grab my workout gear before I left the house. So of the two items that were in my clean laundry, which do you suppose made it into my gym bag?

If you guessed the black cami that I also happened to have washed that day, you'd be right. The only good thing is that I always have an extra of each item in my bag at all times just in case - why yes, I do know myself well. They aren't my favorites, but they'll do. After my workout, I reached into my bag to get my towel so I could shower. Ummm, no towel. Why? Because my oh so responsible self had folded it up and put it away instead of placing it into my gym bag where I needed it. Oops.

And when I picked up Mister Man from school? Well, I got a little bit of an earful from him - well-deserved, too. I had sent him Little Miss's lunch instead of his own. And that's a problem. She has to have a dairy free lunch, and he won't do sauces or hummus or the like because of textural issues. Instead of sending them nearly identical lunches that day, I'd sent her dairy free pizza, heavy on the sauce, and celery sticks with red pepper hummus. Interestingly, I'd checked the containers before I slipped it into their lunchboxes to be sure I gave them the right ones, but I didn't open the containers to check to see that I'd put the right food into the right containers. Oops.

I didn't listen, in case you're wondering. My gym issues? I forgot the towel. Again. And worse? When I did remember the towel, I closed my locker and locked it. It wasn't until after my shower when I was standing there in my towel trying to unlock it that I realized I hadn't changed the combination before locking it, so I had no way to get in. My gym nightmare finally came true.

Tonight? I'm going to bed as soon as the wee ones do!

This Is Why I Go To Bed First

Before I forget, go play my fun game from last night's post. Answers go up Monday night!

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Last night, I was trying to finish something before heading to bed. My husband happened to decide to go to bed about five minutes before I was finished. I didn't notice at first, but I quickly did.

You don't need to adjust your monitor, as there isn't any picture, but you need to listen to the audio. This is what I heard through the closed bedroom door, downstairs, while I had a television on. It was louder than the television. Out of respect to my husband, I chose to not turn on the lights.

Go ahead. Feel my pain.



Tonight? I figure I've got another ten minutes before I need to race upstairs and try to fall asleep before my husband gets there.

The kicker? When I played this for him this afternoon, he said it sounded a little like a creaky boat and wasn't that loud. It's all in your perspective, I suppose.

It's That Time Again

It's 8:34. I finally have a chance to sit down after finishing the dishes and laundry and cleaning up. It's been a long day, and I realize that I've yet to have dinner. The couch beckons, so I sit down and turn on the computer. My feet go up on the couch, and I lean back with my eyes closed, waiting for it to boot.

AHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHH

AANNNNNNNNGGGGGG

IIIIIIIIIIIIHHHHHHHHHHH

That's coming from Mister Man. My husband is sick asleep in bed, so I race up the stairs, almost tripping on the clean socks I'd left folded on the landing. He's still crying as I slip into his room. I reach for him on his bed, and he's sitting up, wriggling and crying.

What is it, Mister Man? What's wrong? Did you have a bad dream?

Do you need a hug from Mommy?

Are you too hot?

Do you need DouglasKitty?

What's wrong, Kiddo? I can't help you if you can't tell me? Shhhh, shhh. You're ok.

He continues to cry with his eyes closed like he isn't fully awake yet. And he's yet to stop wriggling around. To the untrained eye, he appears to have ants in his pants.

Sweet Pea, do you have to go potty?

I get my first half intelligible noise, a moaning yeeeaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh. I can see that he's in no condition to go himself, so I scoop him into my arms and make my way past the Thomas trains still on the floor and head into the hallway. He's still crying and wiggling.

In the bathroom we go, and I'm briefly grateful for the small nightlight inside. I set Mister Man down in front of the toilet. As I reach to open the lid, he's wriggling his pants down. His eyes are still closed, and his mouth is hanging open.

A steam emerges. A most impressive stream. The longest stream a little boy could create. Forty-five seconds later, he sighs in contentment. The pants slowly come up, and I help him wash his hands before carrying my forty-one pound boy back to bed. He's sound asleep long before I set him gently into bed and cover him back up.

That's about when I walk into my husband's room with one comment and one comment only. He is so your son.

Someone Doesn't Like Me!

Someone just had it in for me today. Fortunately, they thought this morning’s yuck was enough, so the rest of the day wasn’t so bad. That or it was just someone else’s turn to have things go wrong.

First of all, I was exhausted this morning because someone didn’t put the cats in the basement last night, so they were meowing outside the kids’ rooms most of the night. I love my buddies, but until the kids are mature enough to sleep with cats, they unfortunately have to go into the basement at night. Bums me out, but … I’ve learned.

I suppose technically I could have gotten up and put them in the basement when I realized they were mewling for attention. But once I get out of bed, I’m up for hours. I have a better chance at falling back asleep – 15% vs 0% – if I don’t get out of bed. So I suffered through it.

Until Mister Man came climbing on top of me to complain that there was a kitty in his room that was irritating him – his words, not mine. I told him to walk into the bathroom, then run really fast back to his room and close the door since the cats looooove to follow him into the bathroom. Unfortunately, only one cat was gullible enough for fall for that. Roar stayed in his room.

Ten minutes later, we again had Mister Man climbing on top of me to convince me I needed to get Roar out. At that point, Roar jumped into the bed, too, so I rolled over and told him to go back to bed. Except Meow had then gotten into the room. Once he’s in, he knows he shouldn’t be there and scoots under the bed, only making ventures out when he’s sure it’s safe.

I finally gave up and got out of bed. I looked for the spray bottle on the stairs where I’d left it. Nope. Next, I peeked in the kids’ bathroom. Nope. I tried our bathroom – you know, where it actually belongs. Nope. I finally asked hubby where it was. On Mister Man’s nightstand, of course. *sigh*

Needless to say, I got the cat out of the room, but then the clock watching started for me. I debated turning on the tv or the light to read (if you saw my nightstand, you’d understand the need to read). I decided against it and decided to just try to sleep. Deep breaths. Counting backwards from 200. Drinking some of my water. Nothing. No idea when I finally fell back asleep, but I know I did because the alarm freaked me out when it went off.

Oddly, Mister Man did not want to wake up when I went to go get him. Poor guy was exhausted, too, but he doesn’t have the Mommy Fortitude that I do. Turned his light on to start the process of waking him up and checked on Little Miss. She had a poopy diaper needless to say, which I knew simply by opening her door. Although she did tell me three times, she really didn’t have to.

Once I got her changed, my hands washed, her dressed, and her hair done, Mister Man was still not awake. I had to do the dressing for him, which of course meant that we were now running late – and my snoozing the alarm twice had nothing to do with it, I swear!

Good news is that both kids ate breakfast fairly quickly, so we could start getting shoes on before Miss Deana got there to pick up Mister Man. Except Little Miss required another trip upstairs for a diaper change. Fortunately Miss Deana was running late this morning, so we actually had time to go inspect the daffodils and tulips that were coming up.

Just as I was opening the garage door to start putting Little Miss inside to shave some time because Miss Deana was running too late, she pulled up. Mister Man got on the bus, Little Miss got into the car – without a fuss – and away we went. I was looking at the clock and thinking that things were actually going well. Until I realized that I’d forgotten Little Miss’s backpack at home. I went back to get it, and we were on the road again!

I hit every red light on the way to her school, somehow. It’s a ten minute drive, generally, but I have 5 stoplights. And not only did I hit lights, but two of them required me sitting through more than one signal.

We also cross the railroad tracks twice. Because we had to go back for the backpack, all the school buses were headed back to their yard, which is right near her school. So three school buses ahead of me turned, stopped at the tracks to open their doors, then went forward. By the time we turned onto the next street, I had six buses ahead of me that all had to go across the tracks.

Of course, as I turned onto that street, I noticed that traffic was really backing up. Then I looked ahead and saw a freight train going across the tracks. Now, were I using my head, I’d say that I had just crossed tracks two to three minutes prior and there were no gates or sign of a train. Knowing that the trains that go through are typically very long, I should have turned around and gone the “sneaky” way. None of that dawned on me until much later, however. I’ve never had a freight train go by on my way to preschool, so that really threw me. (And I'm now really against the company buying the tracks and putting 25-40 trains through a day vs the 5 we have now!)

Seven minutes later (and yes, preschool had started by then), the caboose went by, and the traffic slowly started to move. Until the six buses had to stop to go across the tracks. And the light turned red. I kept looking at the clock and hoping that I’d at least be there before they locked the doors for the morning.

When I got to the preschool, I assumed that I’d at least find an easy parking spot (see previous post), but that was not to be. Apparently, this was Parents-Hang-Out-After-Dropping-Off-Your-Kids Day today and no one informed me. But we found a spot on the street, and we got there before they locked the doors, although she was the last one into class today.

I was fairly irritated by that point, and only part of it was due to sleep deprivation, I think. I hate being late, and it’s one of the things where:
a) had I remembered the backpack
b) had I put Little Miss into the car earlier
c) had I not hit so many red lights
d) had someone not decided they hated me today,
then I would not have been stuck by the freight train, and we would have been totally on time!

But! I found a silver lining. I didn’t get pulled over by a cop (the fact that I wasn’t exactly speeding probably improved my odds, but still – that would have been the icing on the cake!).