I can’t get no sleep.
Well, that is not strictly true. Last night for example, I went to bed at 11-ish, was probably asleep by half past, and save a couple of brief small boy wakings, slept til 5. But then Syd wakes up for his early morning feed, which he always does between 5 and 6, and I am done. I can’t get back to sleep. Syd can, he is snoring away happily while I lie here fretting . He will sleep now until I force him to get up at 8. So why can’t I go back to sleep too?
I think my mind, if awake for more than a few minutes at this point of the night, just decides it is morning. I can function on 5/6 hours sleep, but 8 would be better.
My body disagrees with my mind, and I am inclined to take its side. It refuses to get out from under the duvet, or consider vertical in any serious fashion. Despite quite urgently needing a wee. So I lay trapped in a nether world with a sleeping body and a mind on full pelt.
My thoughts flit from one train to the next. Sometimes I can trick my brain with radio 4, and lull it back to sleep as its own jibber gets lost in the soporific tones of early morning talk radio. But mostly it wants to concern itself with things I cannot do much about at such an hour, if at all. I think about:-
My family. My Daughter has been discussing University options- where did her childhood go? I hope that my lovely man is doing ok after the recent death of his Mum. And I feel blessed that the very dearest of my loved ones are sleeping peacefully under my roof – if I really strain my hearing I can convince myself that I can hear the different breathing patterns of all four of them, as the sounds of their snuffles and slumber fill the otherwise silent house.
I worry that I have forgotten things like bills, or the parcel I need to take to the post office but keep forgetting to. I would go now if it were open just to shut my brain up about it.
I consider philosophical questions such as ‘Why is the bread always too big for the toaster?’ and ‘Why can’t the manufacturers of bread and toasters team up and decide a standardised slice size?’ Deep huh?!?
I worry about politics, and the environment, and plot half baked plans for revolutions and schemes to save the world. If I were Queen of Everything it would be a beautiful, caring world. How unfortunate that the flaws in my flimsy propositions become all too plain to see once I add caffiene and daylight to the mix.
I ponder the big stuff like ‘How did Syd get Netflix to talk Spanish?’ and ‘When Dora the Explorer is in Spanish, does she teach English?’
And I watch the minutes tick down until at half six I think , feck it, no point in going back sleep now, be time to get up soon, may as well brave upright. I bribe my still reluctant body with the promise of an empty bladder and a hot drink, and roll out bed. The clock is blinking 06.34 at me now. Time to put the kettle on…..