Last night I skinned up Buttermilk with my fellow Monday evening companions. We gathered in the parking lot as we put our skins on our skis and stuffed our packs with lights and warm clothes for the descent. The conversation immediately went to how we were all so tired and needed to gather our energy together to hike 2,030 feet of mountain at 6:30pm.
Apparently, I was not the only one who was having difficulties sleeping. I listened as everybody commented on their drug of choice to get them through the night. I told them that I was afraid to head in that direction because I was afraid of becoming addicted. They all laughed at me and said that Ambien was the least of my worries.
It is our fate as parents that once we have children we will never have a deep sleep again for the rest of our lives. As mothers, our sleepless fate runs deeper. At the end of the day we collapse into our beds without an ounce of energy left in our exhausted bodies. The initial ability to fall asleep is not the issue, it is what happens to us once we are in REM mode. It is inevitable that our sleep will be disturbed either by our under satiated husbands or by a scared, whimpering child. I have woken up many times to a ghostly vision of a child hovering over me as I slept, . If we are mercifully not interrupted than thoughts on how we are going to save the world, or at least our families, seep into our dreams. Add hormones, red wine, chocolate or guilt to the equation and we become zombies of the night.
This morning I woke up with a deflated bubble in addition to my sleepless night. I had been riding a wave that just crashed down on me and I can’t find my humor to help me out of this one. I am walking around in a slump doing what I can to rebuild my ego and move on. Tucker does not seem to notice my sluggish behavior and insists that I stop typing and build a city with blocks with him.
Maybe that is just what I need to do to break out of my miserable state.
Last full moon where I was up all night.