Posts Tagged With: sleep

almost 12

Last night I was far too deep inside the “book” I was reading (it was an e-book, I can’t deny that I use those) and was long past tired, so it wasn’t until close to 1:30 am that I finally closed the iPad and pushed the switch on my bedside lamp. It took me at least 20 minutes to doze off and drop into a solid sleep. Not so solid, however, that I didn’t immediately awaken when my almost 12 year old son appeared at the side of my bed. “Mama, I had a bad dream.” I glanced at the clock before I scooted over against the wall and held the covers up for him to climb in beside me: 3:17. After a few minutes spent watching him, I felt confident enough in his slumber to close my eyes, trying to drift off. He moved about a bit and then, “Mama, my head hurts.” I asked him if he wanted a pill or just an ice pack and he decided on both. I checked the time when I climbed over top of him and back into bed: 3:43. Once he was lying still for 15 minutes I climbed back out and took myself and my alarm across the hall to his empty bed. I lay awake a while; listening in case he needed me; unable to settle because I was worried about not getting enough sleep. 7 am came fairly quickly. HardWorker was already gone, I had some time before I needed to get BoyGenius up and into the shower, and tried to plot out just when in the day I would fit a couple of naps in. My Fitbit app advised me that I had managed only four hours and six minutes of actual sleep — nothing I could do to change that. It was going to be a long Monday.

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For a few weeks now, I’ve been getting hit with the realization that I am about to be the parent of a 12 year old. How did this happen? I didn’t really plan on this. I mean, I know that’s how it works, if you’re extremely lucky: your children grow up and you all grow older together. But seriously, my plan was to have a baby, maybe a toddler. A 12 year old? I never really thought that far ahead. He’s in grade 6. And the school year is more than half over. His birthday parties now consist of 3-4 friends, pizza, a movie, and some video games. To be fair, they’ve been like that for a few years already; he’s always seemed two to three years ahead of his chronological age. Not that we’ve rushed him, or anyone’s expected him to be more mature, or anything like that; he’s just always had this “presence” and common sense, logical thought process and a wicked quick sense of humour, an easy-going nature and a thoughtful need for fairness, all combined with a solid sense of uniqueness and self. While most of those character traits have stood BoyGenius in good stead over his 12 years, he has also had to put up with disparaging comments about his sensitivity, his choice of hairstyle or shoe colour, his apparent “know-it-all”-ness, his book and movie preferences.

I still look at him in wonder at least once a day. He makes me laugh, he makes me cry, he makes me worry, he makes me proud. There is still so much for him to learn, but there is sooooo much that he already knows. There are things he does that frustrate me, and there are things he does that make my heart swell with amazement at who he has already become in his 12 short years. And the thing is, the person that he has become, and that he still has to grow into, that person has been there since day one. That personality was already in place with the first wave of his hand and kick of his foot in utero; the good-natured-ness, the sense of humour — already there.

Sometimes I miss my baby. Sometimes I miss my toddler. Most times I know that the young man sprawled across our couch or searching for food 15 minutes after dinner is the same guy. When my almost 12 year old gets awakened by a bad dream and needs to snuggle with Mama I am absolutely sure.

I love you, Schnucki.

Categories: family, love, memories, parenting | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

trying all the things

When you’re a stay-at-home-parent, there are many fun things you get to do, including, but not limited to: dishes, laundry, picking up garbage, vacuuming, talking to the cat, and messing with telemarketers. I love all of these things. Okay, except for the picking up garbage part. And the vacuuming. I have done/do do (ha! I said do do!) all of these things. But realistically, one cannot fill one’s day with these things without going crazy (to say nothing of one’s soul).

So, I do other stuff. I write think of things to write, I take photographs, I bake. I read what other people have written (sometimes). I knit, crochet, tackle start various projects (both creative and household-fixative) and walk. I spent at least five years volunteering at BoyGenius’ school, for both regular programs and special events (I’ve even got my name on a plaque in the school trophy case). Over the last couple of years, though, I’ve begun to question just what it is that I’m doing with my life.

Sure, I’m raising what will hopefully be a fully cooked adult one day. Although I’m not really sure I’ve gotten to that stage yet and I’m pretty sure no one is raising me anymore. But what else am I doing? I can tell you what I’m not doing. I’m not saving the world. I’m not traveling the world. I’m not selling out shows in Vegas. I’m not winning the Master Chef competition. I’m not sleeping well. I’m not losing weight. I’m not experiencing more than 3 good-hair-days in a row. I’m not really getting any of the shit done that’s on any one of a myriad of to-do lists.

I’m trying. I’m trying to figure out what I’m doing right and do more of it. I’m trying to eat better, even with two living, breathing obstacles in my way. I’m trying to get fitter, stronger (not to lose weight, per se, more to have something to do) — and as such I started walking after my knee surgery last year, I started working out with a personal trainer twice (sometimes only once) a week, and more recently I started seeing a massage therapist and taking yoga. [Let’s be clear … over the winter I didn’t walk much since it’s cold and icy, and I haven’t really gotten back into it yet … but I did recently get new shoes, so there’s that.] I tried taking a neighbourhood dog for walks every day (until her owners realized that even my ridiculously low rates were too much for them). I’m trying scrubbing the bathroom ceiling, because mould, y’all. I have spent a number of hours trying to rid my kitchen (and presumably my house) of carpenter ants. I’m trying getting paid for some of the time I spend at BoyGenius’ school (meet the new Lunch Supervisor). I tried having a best friend for a few years .. it worked out well, until all of a sudden it didn’t; I’m now trying to get used to not having one again. I’m trying to get out some … so yoga. And I also tried a “Paint Night” at my local pub — that was fun.

I’m not sure what else I can do … yes, yes, I can clean out my basement, I know. BoyGenius’ last day of Grade 5 is tomorrow and then I’ve got 2 months of limbo stretching in front of me. Here’s hoping I can figure some things out. And by the way, I’ve got LOTS to say about yoga.

Categories: friendship, parenting, Sleep, words | Tags: , , , , , , | 4 Comments

good morning?

Can’t sleep. Stupid battery beep in the smoke detector woke me at about 3 am. Figured it was the same one that did that last week (we didn’t have a new-out-of-the-package battery so just put in one that was lying around — it worked — until now) so I opened the cover to disengage the battery. Went back to bed. Half an hour later, in my dream, I’m thinking, “Didn’t I just fix this thing?” as I hear the stupid battery beep again. Open my eyes and realise I’m not dreaming anymore and it’s still going. Aha, it’s the one outside the bathroom. I’m up, it stops. I go downstairs and get the step-stool just in case. No beeping. Back to bed.

No sleeping. Stomach turning, not quite ready to throw up but maybe. Brain spinning, unsure of being able to accomplish everything that needs doing before vacation starts Saturday morning. Unsure that vacation will afford me some rest. Stupid smoke alarm battery beeping. Out of bed, check clock: 4 am. Set up step-stool in the dark and disengage battery on 2nd smoke alarm; put step-stool away. Back to bed.

No sleeping. Calf cramps, first one, then the other, then both together. Stomach turning. Brain spinning: vacation, packing, laundry, roofers, taxes, vacation, friend who’s feeding cat & watering plants, airport limo, Auntie Shirl’s birthday card, hiding everything (mess) in house from friend who’s feeding cat & watering plants, my brother called — said he would call back and didn’t, what did he want? –, fucking calf cramps (am I drinking enough milk? what shoes did I wear yesterday? I didn’t put that bag of salad in the fridge, did I?), sunscreen, shorts, where IS the cat? Not quite ready to throw up, but getting close (maybe that pork chop WAS too pink?). Check clock: 4:47 am.

Still no sleeping. No sleeping, might as well get up.

Categories: parenting | Tags: , , , , | 2 Comments

let sleeping boys lie

.. to sleep, perchance ...

.. to sleep, perchance …

HardWorker comes down from putting BoyGenius to bed with a fearful look in her eyes. “He wants you to go up. He says his stomach hurts and he feels like he might throw up.”

I go up, give him a small glass of ginger ale and a Gravol and ask him if it just feels queasy. He says yes. I lay down beside him and he curls up on his side and closes his eyes. I remind him to breathe evenly, to not try too hard to take deep breaths. He nods, eyes still closed. Pretty soon he starts the little involuntary twitches that let me know he’s very close to deep sleep. I caress his brow and when my hand comes back damp, I know for sure. (His temperature rises by what seems like 10 degrees within seconds of his falling asleep; has done so since he was a baby.)

I wait a couple of minutes more, until I see him, his eyes still closed*, breathing in that “I’m asleep” pattern that a parent learns to recognize, pull the duvet down, pull his legs out from under it, stretch first one leg up into the air then the other to tug his pyjama pants back into place, then cross his right leg over the left at the knee, but finding no purchase give up on that subconscious attempt and roll over facing away from me.

I come back downstairs and HardWorker nervously asks, “How is he?”

“Asleep,” I answer while she shakes her head in awe of the power of the Mama.

*On occasion BoyGenius will sleep with his eyes somewhat open. Just a little slit at the bottom of his lids, but still. It freaks me out every time. When my brother was deathly ill his eyes could no longer close all the way when he slept and that freaked me out, too. It’s a very weird feeling when someone who is in a deep sleep is looking at you.

Categories: family, parenting, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , | 3 Comments

fun with words (-ill)

Not completely sleepless last night; actually the best kind of tired feeling there is, when physical and emotional meld together in just the right proportions. It’s very rare and oh so sweet. Before drifting off into an almost motionless 5 straight hours of uninterrupted bliss, I finished this little thing off. The first five ‘lines’ have been sitting on my dresser, scrawled on a post-it, for at least 6 weeks now. My muse smiled and I’m happy with the finished piece. It’s just a little bit of fun with words. 🙂

you thrill me
you chill me
you put me through the mill
addicted like a pill
can’t ever get my fill
you bend me to your will
I’ll climb the hill like Jack and Jill
without you I feel ill
you’ve tilled the soil of my soul
drilled as deep as you can go
my love spreads like an oil spill
and you absorb it with such skill
can’t no one ever pay that bill

and still
I’ll be with you until …

Categories: Uncategorized, words | Tags: , , , , | 3 Comments

12 Jan – a windy night

You know those nights when you just can’t get to sleep because of some force of nature or another?

I’m fine with just about anything if I’m asleep. Trees cracking an losing limbs due to an ice storm? Didn’t hear a thing. Garbage cans flying down the street in gale force winds? Sleeping as soundly as possible. Raging downpour? No problem. If I am able to get to sleep, there’s no way Mother Nature is going to wake me before I’m ready.

If I can’t get to sleep before there is wind or rain or the eerie brightness of a snowfall, then all bets are off and I’m up for hours. Such was the case on the 12th of January. And so, I present you with the following:

Still awake; can’t sleep.
Thoughts of you spinning round in my head.
Like a favourite CD with track 2 on repeat.
The wind is loud and strong enough to clear my mind, you’d think.
But all it does is blow you back in and offer you a drink.
You sit and snuggle in and wait; I don’t know what for.
I try to push you out but you come right back; waves lapping against my shore.

Categories: Uncategorized, words | Tags: , , , , | 2 Comments

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