Yup

Last night I had an accidental experiment that proves my theory that the choice to stay awake is important.

Lila has been teething all weekend and is continuing through today. She was the most miserable yesterday. Whimpy and whiny and clingy and needy. So, expecting mass sleeplessness, I figured it was as good a time as any to start the second book of The Hunger Games.

The little one had absolutely no trouble sleeping, however, and I promised Kim (and myself) that as soon as the current chapter was over (you can't just stop in books like this), the light would be off and I'd be on my way to a full night's sleep.

I next looked up at 6am - but only after turning the very last page and experiencing extreme frustration over not having access to the third book yet.

But, even after only getting my (for now) usual amount of sleep, there is a very significant difference. Today I am much more alert, cheerful, relaxed, and patient.

I'm also quite sore/stiff. Next time I will be more careful about my reading position.

sleep, or lack thereof

An unfinished painting; seven crocheted rows of another (failed) attempt at giving life to the pattern I see in my head; an empty Pages document that taunts me with its emptiness; a messy house; a diapered toddler who still isn't potty training; laundry piling up again.

All mixed with exhaustion from too many late nights, too many demands, too many fights, too much whining.

I'm not ready to think the thought that I'm not as young as I used to be.

But . . .

Just a few years ago, it seemed that I was most passionate when only getting small amounts of sleep.

Or perhaps the only difference is that before, I chose to stay up all night. Yes, I had regular, horrific nightmares that made it very difficult to sleep. But the choice was always mine. To chance another nightmare or to stay awake; writing, reading, thinking.

Now, it is my children with the regular nightmares. Now, it is my littlest child restless from cutting teeth. Now, it is my oldest daughter terrified of sleeping. Now, it is my oldest momentarily forgetting how to use the bathroom.

And I have no choice.

It is my duty to care for these children during the night. A duty I cherish. (Honest.)

It's just that, sometimes, I am almost painfully aware of Kim sleeping peacefully through every nightly disturbance.

In those moments, it's easy to feel resentful. To believe the lie that I sacrifice so much while Kim does nothing to help. To forget that I wouldn't give up these nightly disturbances for anything.

shlump in the night

And poor Mr. Bix!
Every morning at six,
poor Mr. Bix has his Borfin to fix!

It doesn't seem fair. It just doesn't seem right,
but his Borfin just seems to go shlump every night.
It shlumps in a heap, sadly needing repair.
Bix figures it's due to the local night air.

It takes him all day to un-shlump it.
And then...
the night air comes back
and it shlumps once again!

from Dr. Seuss's "Did I Ever Tell You How Lucky You Are?"

I relate far too easily with Mr. Bix. My Borfin, however, is not some mechanical invention of Dr. Seuss's, the purpose of which is elusive; my Borfin is my attitude. Sometimes I'll fix it and will be good for days. Other times, like the last several days, I have to spend every moment fixing it because it shlumps as I'm un-shlumping it. Regardless of how long it lasts before shlumping again, I'm constantly needing to work on it. It is annoying. I start wondering, why do I even bother un-shlumping when I know it's just going to shlump again? (I had the same mentality toward making my bed for most of my life.)

But when it shlumps, I really dislike myself. If I could get away from me, I would. When my attitude shlumps, so does everything else.

I know I have to work on my attitude a little more than others. For one thing, there's my ongoing battle against depression (just a plethora of skirmishes now); for another thing, I feel a bit controlled by things going on around me, with the deployment, the kids, and the pregnancy. Very little right now in my life is as I would have planned it, and even though I know that God is in charge and is working through everything for His good purposes, it rankles me. Don't I get some say in my life?

I'm not even going to comment on how ridiculous a question that is. I mean, He's God. I'm lucky He doesn't strike me down because of my disrespect.

Now back to un-shlumping.