Sleep, Right

I think that I have made it abundantly clear that I am a creature of habit. A creature of ritualistic habits to be exact. It was during my pre-sleep ritual that I realized something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

I have a hard time falling asleep at night. As soon as I lay my head down, my mind starts racing thinking about all the things that I need to do the next day, things that I want to do in the next week, reminders of what I need to add to the grocery list, checking off my done list, remembering what I need to remind Stuart of the next day...it really is exhausting. But not exhausting enough to make me fall asleep.

So I read. It really helps my mind slow down and in a short amount of time, I am more prepared to actually fall asleep. The reading thing drives Stuart nuts. He doesn't understand why anyone would need to read to get tired, not-to-mention the fact that I am always "complaining" of being tired-so just go to sleep! is his solution. Not so easy buck-o. The light, all-be-it a reading light makes him pull the covers over his head to show his disdain. (This is also pet peeve #678- covers over the head. I start hyperventilating thinking about him or anyone not being able to breath and then I visualize the claustrophobia he must be feeling from being under the covers with no way out and then I start yanking the covers down in a dramatic attempt to save his life. He thinks this is wildly funny.)

After I have filled my head with written words, I get out of bed to put my book up high (or else Scout will eat it-she's already demolished one book), jump back into bed so that the monster under the bed doesn't grab my feet, take my glasses off, turn the light out, pull the covers up to my chin, flip over to my stomach, then furiously search under the covers with my foot till I find Stuart's foot. Then I pray. I do all these things, in this exact order, every night.

It was during my prayer that I realized something was wrong. My mind started wandering, yet again, but this time it was about my blog. My blog? MY BLOG. Seriously. I was lying there writing out my next blog(s) and trying to come up with just the right wording, something witty, anything funny, scenarios that might relate to someone else's life-are you kidding me? Prayer Clarissa! This is not the appropriate time for this!

It was also during this internal dialogue that the first clap of thunder sounded. Crap! Not now! I am such a baby, I love to sleep during the rain but I like for it to start after I fall asleep otherwise I get so scared of all the noises that I want to pee my pants and throw myself into Stuart. Literally into him. Because that would be the safest place.

Speaking of pee, Tyson peed in his bed again last night. Hmm, two nights in a row. This has never happened before. But last night as I tore thru the kitchen yet again, I was much quicker in going from OMG my child is being kidnapped and he has no cell phone! to Turbo's sleeping in the living room and he would totally rip an intruder in two to oh, Tyson peed in his bed, again. It was a much better transition than the night before.

Much to my surprise, when I awoke this morning to Stuart's ridiculously loud getting-ready-for-school, that I dreamed about blogging. Actual dream. This is getting out of hand.