Who needs sleep?

That's a loaded question, coming from someone who adores sleep the way that I do.

Let's be real here for a moment: the best part of getting out of bed in the morning is when I can get right back in it. I am not, never have been, never will be a morning person. Any day that I have to be up, dressed, and out of the house before 10 a.m. is a bad day. There are also few things in life that I enjoy more than a good nap, with Sunday afternoon naps being both the sweetest and the most necessary.

On the flip side, I could easily stay awake all night long. I would be absolutely darling at pulling off a third-shift schedule, if only I could get the children and out-of-the-house activities on board.

You would think that after a day like today, I'd be ready to hit the pillow...but no. I require a little bit of downtime in which to unwind first, and 1 a.m. is the first downtime I've had today.

This morning, the girls and I were up bright and early to head to our homeschool co-op. I adore our co-op - the kids are fun, the moms are great, and my girls actually learn a thing or two about writing and science. The only problem is, this gig starts at 9:15. In the morning. I know, I know, that's not early for most of you. But it is for me. And worse, it's early for my grouchy non-morning-people children too, which makes the whole getting-there process a bit of an ordeal.

After co-op, it was errands - hooray, my library fines were only $7.50, and not the $20-ish that I was expecting! (It's a homeschooler thing. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.) Home for lunch and schoolwork and chores. Time to cook dinner and then I was back out the door for rehearsal.

Side note: this show that I'm rehearsing for now? The Odd Couple? It is so. much. fun. The sheer amount of dialogue that I still need to memorize is a little bit terrifying, but when it all comes together, this show will be hilarious. Report coming forth once I actually survive it.

Rehearsal ended at 9:30, and I headed to...the gym. Yep.

I cannot begin to express the magnitude of out-of-character-ness that this is for me. Wanting to go to the gym? After a full day of mom-ness? Staying there until nearly midnight? Weird.

Bonus: there aren't a lot of people there late at night, and I really like that.

Oddly, I've really started to enjoy my gym time at Planet Fitness. Maybe it's because it's the one place that I can actually be alone, but then, I think a little of it is because I'm actually starting to see some progress. I can walk for longer and faster on the treadmill than I could a month ago. I can handle more weight on the arm and leg machines. I still can't do a thing with the elliptical, because that thing is evil incarnate. But progress is gratifying, and that gratification keeps me going back for more.

Home, shower, tuck in my night owl children who are still awake because, you know, homeschoolers again. Time for bed...but...I just need to check this one thing online first! And here I am.

Every day isn't quite as busy as this one. Co-op is only once a week; rehearsals will end and the show will end and the next show will come along; sometimes I go to the gym early - it just depends on what funky schedule the hubby is working on any given week. We manage to keep a loose schedule - I love having a plan and sticking to it. But I'm also learning to be more flexible, and do what I have to when I have to, in order to get it all done.

Even if it means staying up all night when I don't have to be up early the next day.

P.S. - This post is linked up at the Works for Me Wednesday and Wonderful Wednesday Blog Hops. Go check them out to find all kinds of amazing blogs other than mine! ;)

30 Days of Gratitude 2011: Day Sixteen

I am aaaaaaaaall kinds of grateful for my very own bed. I have long believed that there's nothing on earth that feels as good as burrowing under the covers of your own bed. I suppose that belief began as an elementary-schooler, when our house was heated only by a woodstove, located downstairs and on the other end of the house. When it was time to get up for school during the winter, it was still dark outside and my room would be freezing. There was nothing I wanted more than to just. stay. in bed.


This trend continued through middle school and high school, where it began to dawn on me that mornings just came too stinking early. Honestly, if it's still dark outside, it's not morning yet. 


It was good preparation, I suppose, for when I'd have a job and be expected to show up on time. But I still didn't enjoy it. I dreamed of a day when I'd be able to wake up on my own - not to the annoying buzz of an alarm clock. It didn't seem that it would ever happen.

Then I became a mommy. I assumed that I would never see my bed again - or at least not for more than an hour or two at a time. However, I was blessed with a baby that didn't mind sleeping (so long as she was in the appropriate place, which was right beside me.) I can count the times that I was up with her in the middle of the night on one - yes, one - finger. She was that easy. We caught on fast that nursing and co-sleeping are a magical combination - and best yet, one that didn't require feet touching floor after bedtime.

And then I had another little girl. I don't even need any fingers to count the times that she kept me up all night. It simply didn't happen.

Rachael is a bit of a morning person, which is unfortunate. I don't tend to get along well with those, when forced to be in close approximation to them. She rolls out of the bed smiling and ready to face the day, but has (thankfully) learned to keep it to herself until Mommy is mostly awake.

Milly is indifferent; she gets up when she wakes up, neither in good mood nor bad. However, she quite often sleeps until *I* wake up, which is nice. No tiny dictators demanding my presence too soon.

Yes, I am grateful for my bed - and finally, for the opportunity to spend more time with it in the mornings. Don't wake me up while it's still dark outside unless my sheets are on fire.

Deja vu...

So, it's late at night - actually way early in the morning - and I should have been asleep a long time ago. But instead, I brought my laptop to bed to finish up the page I was scrapping, and (as usual) got caught up with other things. In the middle of those other things, I heard Milly whimpering through the baby monitor. Now, some nights she goes to bed in her room and I don't see her till morning. Most nights, though, she still wakes up and wants to come to bed with me. No problem, I welcome the snuggle time - I just wish she'd come on in here on her own instead of waiting me to come to her and bring her in. But I digress.

I went and picked her up and hauled her into the bed with me, and told her that I wasn't going to sleep yet, but she could sleep here and I'd stay right here with her. As crazily demanding as she's been lately, I nearly expected this to end in a tantrum, but was pleasantly surprised when she laid down and went to sleep instead.

And then she started moving. Squirming. Twisting. Turning. Flopping. Kicking. She normally isn't quite so wiggly - if I'm lying next to her, she cuddles up and lies perfectly still. But given a wider reign, she's going to take up as much bed as she can manage.

Right now, she's lying sideways, her head near the edge of the bed, just beneath the pillow. Blankets have been kicked off. Arms outstretched. And one little foot, encased in fuzzy white princess-print footie pajamas, is propped firmly on my thigh.

When Rachael was a baby - from the time she was about six months old until she moved out of my bed and into her own at eighteen months - I had to stay in bed with her at night. She'd nurse to sleep and then, if I moved very carefully so as not to disturb her, I could sit up and use my laptop. If I left the room...I'm not sure how she knew, but she knew. There were some nights that I resented this arrangement very much. There are few people that I admitted it to - most would have proclaimed it yet another reason never to co-sleep with your baby. (I dare say most of them never tried it!)

But for all the nights that I was irritated about being confined, as it were, to the bed with my baby...there were ten more that I sat and watched her sleep, her little features just visible in the light from the computer screen. I memorized every detail of her cherubic little face, traced her pudgy cheeks with my fingertips, vowing to never, never forget a single thing, no matter how quickly she grew and changed. I marveled at the fact that, as much as she'd changed already, she still looked so much like she did when she was brand new, while she was sleeping.

She also tossed and turned a bit, propped her feet on me, stretched out as much as she could. She smiled in her sleep a lot, and I loved that. And I blogged about those sweet nocturnal smiles back then as well.

Now she's six years old and hasn't crawled into my bed in the middle of the night in about two years - since her sister was tiny, I suppose. I remember lying sandwiched between my girls, baby snuggled against my chest and big sister curled against my back. And one night, she just stopped...which is as it should be, I suppose, as I always knew it would be.

I have the feeling that it won't be long until the nighttime visits from Milly cease as well. After all, she has a big sister in the same room that she could just as easily crawl into bed with, when she wakes up at night at all. So during the rare instances when she joins me in bed while I'm still awake, I'll sit here a little longer than necessary, a little longer than I should, with the computer still on, the only light in the room.

And I'll watch her sleep.

I'll memorize every detail of her cherubic little face.

Trace her pudgy cheeks with a fingertip.

And vow to never, never forget this.