I think Mr. Sandman got laid off.
Just after I gave birth to my first child, my mother-in-law told me I will never get a peaceful night of sleep again. While that’s not been entirely the truth, she was on to something. Midnight and early morning feedings turned into aiding sicknesses, turned into easing nightmarish fears, turned into a little one needing just one more cuddle, turned into two more children to follow the aforementioned pattern. It seems as though we will eternally be hearing the little patter of footsteps padding into our room during the sleepy hours.
Sleep. Ahhhh. Sleep. Motherhood has turned me into a light sleeper. I awake if a down feather wrestles loose from a pillow. I awake if I hear a cough. I awake if one of my little ones falls out of bed. Well, sure that one is a given, but still. You just can’t keep a good woman down I guess.
How then would I describe the nights when I do sleep well? I can’t describe them. I can only say it’s obvious the next day. I’m restored and my mind is crisp, everything seems more doable and less an obstacle.
So, I’m hoping that Mr. Sandman gets reinstated. He had such purpose. I know it’s not his fault my sleep is as jilted as shifting tectonic plates. I’ll just blame this whacked out economy, but I miss him. I wonder what it’ll take to get him back. I wonder if he’ll ever come back. I imagine I’ll have to get through the teenage years first.