First the dog woke me up around 12:30 and then E woke me at 3 so I had plenty of time to think about sleep. I use to run on 6 hours fairly well. I’d go to bed around midnight and be up at 6 with just a few cups of coffee to propel me through the day. Now that my mental stress has grown I find myself needing at least 7 and hopefully 8 hours.
I get insomnia now and then and I’ve learned to just ride it out. It seems the more you fight it the less successful you are and actually to sleep. The more I think about sleep the less I get. Also with L asleep next to me I think I have to be completely still or I’ll wake him, which just makes me want to thrash about even more. L has always been one of those annoying people who fall immediately asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. I hate that.
I remember closing the bars down at 3 and it’s a much friendlier time when completely hammered. There’s such a stillness and quiet to 3 am it’s rather disturbing. The only thing that redeemed the time was having E fall asleep with his head on my shoulder. There’s no way to describe it really. There’s safety and love in holding him and it almost makes all this stress of moving and selling worthwhile. It’s that feeling of this is right and meant to be. I can hear his little breath inhaling and exhaling as he drifts off. With a little kiss on the forehead I carefully place him back in his crib and tiptoe out. As I carefully shut the door, he bolts upright, wailing. Yes, I think 3 am is probably the worst time to have to get up.