I'm tired. Real tired. I think.
I started to really notice a couple of weeks ago when I fell asleep in the middle of a dance competition in Houston. Sitting up. With blaring music and lights. Asleep. Just like your grandpa would.
They say you should keep a sleep journal, determining what your sleep patterns and cycles look like, to better help you determine your best REM dream time and when you sleep the deepest.
So here's my sleep journal from last night....
10 pm~~have grand plans to get to bed early. Mike is out of town. Finally have the twins and 5 and 6 of 8 upstairs and tucked in. 2 of 8 comes in from dance. The house seems to be winding down. Okay.
11:30 pm~~the teenage population in the house is still up and laughing. Which I hate to interrupt. Because I love hearing 2, 3 and 4 of 8 chatting and cracking up. But still. It's 11:30 pm. And I had these big plans to go to sleep early. So I
11:32 pm~~1 of 8 calls to tell me that she is done with music practice and is heading back downtown to campus for a mixer she was invited to. What? She hadn't told me about that earlier? Oh, well now she is. And she may be coming in late. Like, late late, says she.
3:00 am~~1 of 8 arrives home. I like having someone in their twenties living in the house. I do. But they tend to be gerbils, nocturnal, what have you. Particularly this twenty-something year old. I startle awake when I bionically hear her key in the front door. She sets the alarm when she comes in. I work to settle back in to some kind of slumber.
4:00 am~~8 of 8 clambers his way down to my bed. Climbs up the footboard. Bounces three times like Tigger toward the headboard. Snuggles in under the covers, his cold feet making tracks down my warm back. He chats a little. Wonders why it isn't daylight yet. Flips over. Flips over again. Proceeds to flip, turn, chat, spin, shimmy and shake for what seems like a long, long time.
5:00 am~~time to get up for a long training run. The upside is, I should be delirious for a good part of the run, which does seem to make the time go faster. I throw back some coffee and try to remember where I've left my running shoes. And I check the temperature. And it's cold. And then it starts to thunder.
5:47 am~~I text my running partner. Are we really going to run in this freezing mess? Really? She is the voice of reason. And she says no. And I am delighted.
6:13 am~~I'm still putzing around on the computer because now I'm somewhat jacked up on caffeine and run-deterred energy.
6:45 am~~My workaholic self looses the battle with my extremely sleepy self. I tuck myself back into bed next to the apparently slumbering 8 of 8.
6:46 am~~8 of 8 is now aware that I have tucked myself back in and picks up on his line of conversation and thrashing.
7:00 am~~morning has broken. Might as well throw in the towel.
So here's what I'm seeing from my sleep journal....
We ain't the Waltons.
Remember the Waltons? A multi-generational family all happily living in one house? And what was always the final scene? The exterior of their iconic farmhouse, with everyone's voices gently wishing each other a good night. Good night, John Boy.
We ain't the Waltons. That much I have figured out.