Insomniac

OF COURSE I had insomnia last night. OF COURSE. I’m going to blame the woman who made my 2 pm latte—I asked for decaf, but the dang thing tasted so good I’m sure it wasn’t. 2 PM though. And I was awake until 2 am. So, so, so unfair.

My friend texted yesterday and wanted to go to the library after school. Since I love all things (1) library and (2) that will occupy my children after school, I said yes. But the library is right next to the Dunkin Donuts and of course we can’t have one without the other. And I was scheduled to work last night, and a latte sounded like just the thing to get me through the evening.

What else happened yesterday? I slept in til the late, late hour of 7:30. My husband was fussing around in our bedroom, getting dressed; he said something to me about CJ, but from under the cover of my two winter-weight blankets, I didn’t understand. I listened to teeth getting brushed, feet stomping down the stairs, raised, stressed voices, and finally, the slam of the garage door, as my husband and oldest son headed out to school. Then the cries of my two-year-old: “Mama? Mama? MAAAAAAMAAAAAA!” as he realized his playmate was gone and no one had yet served him breakfast.

It was during the time I was padding around the kitchen; trying to remember the order of things for the coffeepot (did I empty the filter yet? Clean water goes where?) Chris must have called. I was still hazy from sleep and Sam was still carrying on his everlasting conversation about his stuffed animals, or blankies, or the fact that he needed a silver spoon and an orange cup, not a plastic spoon and a pink cup, so I didn’t hear the phone ring. When I listened to Chris’s message later, it was not a pleasant one.

Remember the other day when I said there are absolutely zero expectations for my home life? It’s because my husband is an incredibly understanding, supportive, and patient person. He doesn’t notice whether I change the sheets. He does his own laundry. And he’ll even do the dishes if I ask. I work part time, but still, I work, and he isn’t too proud to pick up some of my slack (or, who are we kidding, all of it). So imagine my surprise when I listened to that voicemail and the first words out of his mouth were, “Pam, you need to get up earlier.” Me, Princess Pam of the Double Comforter, get up earlier? Me, who works until midnight so I can spend all day with my kids? Me, who has been cursed with insomnia since the day I started nursing school, get up EARLIER? What was he thinking?

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Apparently some person or persons got up on the wrong side of the bed yesterday. One of these persons forgot the other one’s water. And the wronged party chose to use words like hate, never, and ruined, as in, my day is completely ruined and I’m going to die of thirst and it’s all your fault and I hate you. As a veteran to this kind of complaining, I would have reviewed with certain persons that the school day is only six hours long, that there are water fountains dotted throughout the building, and if he was that desperate he could look forward to the cold milk waiting for him in his painstakingly packed lunch. But Chris, delicate flower that he is, couldn’t prevent these words from penetrating his super-dad psyche. And he decided he needed a little morning help.

So fast-forward to today. Everyone was in a much better mood. CJ left the house with a packed lunch, a bottle of ice-cold water that he made himself (six-year-olds CAN perform menial tasks, with enough nagging and nudging), and the last of the Fruit Loops. All because I woke up at 7:23 this morning. 7:23! It’s not Seven Minutes in Heaven anymore, people. It’s SEVEN MINUTES IN THE MORNING CAN MAKE ALL THE DIFFERENCE TO YOU AND YOUR FAMILY.

Now go enjoy your day. And make sure you plan some time for a nap. Lord knows you deserve it.

Photo of CJ by Knight Light Photography.

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