My G-pa is 86 years old. He is the King of the Power Nap. He can fall asleep anywhere.
Lil Diva can sleep through a party, as long as the noise volume is constant.
My brother could sleep through the end of the world.
And The Tackler? He sleeps in the most interesting positions… Top half on the mattress, the bottom half off, under the firetruck bed, or this new one from a few days ago:
Yes, he really is completely passed out in this shot, but it’s difficult to see as it was taken with my crappy iPod camera in the dark because my real camera is just loud enough I feared waking him.
I envy him.
I envy all of them.
As the years pass by, my body becomes more rigid and less open about when, where, and how it falls asleep.
If I don’t have the right bed, the proper amount and shape of pillows and my stuffed sheep, I will wake up every one to two hours and feel exhausted in the morning.
Yes, I did type the words “stuffed sheep.” Don’t judge me. I do whatever is necessary to get sleep with two children.
It makes for interesting traveling, because the first night I sleep in any “new” bed, I toss and turn most of the night.
And when traversing over 900 miles in a minivan with two children, one really needs their sleep.
When I first wake up, my body creaks more than hardwood floors in the ancient house my cousins lived in when we were growing up. My muscles complain as if I was off shingling houses all night, followed by a quick half marathon.
Compared to say, my son, who flies out of bed in the morning as though his blood was replaced by caffeine and sugar and thus is required to zoom around the house at around a million miles an hour.
When did I get so… so.. old?
Oh… yeah. I remember.
The moment I conceived.
I’m not kidding. Before I even had a positive test, my sleep cycle became that of a newborn, as if knowing I required nine months to prepare for The Baby Who Would Not Stay Asleep Unless You Held Him.
Switching to such a short sleep schedule transformed my already light sleeping into insanely light.
I remember once, CG veeeeeeeeeeery slooooooooooooowly opened our bedroom door, trying so hard to be quiet.
I shot up in bed like a fake corpse from a coffin in a Haunted House.
His jaw plummeted, wondering how the hell I not only heard him with my ear plugs and a pillow over my head, but how it could possibly be so loud as to cause me to do the Pregnant Spring Out of Bed.
“You sounded like someone trying to sneak in,” I told him.
He still couldn’t speak as his brain tried to process that I really wasn’t fabricating that whole, “I’m a really really light sleeper now.”
Children certainly haven’t helped matters any..
The few nights I manage to grab four to six hours without waking up, my body has that Hit By A Train feeling.
Perhaps if I went from being a Does Not Move At ALL When I Sleep person to a Could Win Wrestling Match In Sleep person, my joints wouldn’t be so pissed off from zero mobility for so long……
Maybe CG would stop slamming his elbow into my side when he rolls over in bed if I fought back…