When I actually sleep through the night, I feel like a human being. When I don’t, I feel like I need to eat carbs and drink caffeine continuously throughout the day in order to get through even the most mundane tasks. It used to be if my children slept through the night, I felt half-way human. Rolling into the office on four hours of sleep was a norm, so Ibuprofen and tea were my best friends. (Not so good for my health, hence why I chose the independent consulting route, although I still like to consider tea my BFF, after my husband, kids, dog, and dearest family and friends.) My hormones recently turned 40 too, causing me to experience random bouts of hormone-induced insomnia. When I do sleep, it’s glorious. I’m talking about 6 ½ straight hours. Nothing major, just uninterrupted sleep. Sleep without being awakened by my kids.  Sleep without making that ubiquitous mommy list at 1 a.m., circa Sarah Jessica Parker. Sleep without freaking out about how much I need to do the next day or stressing that I’m going to be too tired to do it. Sleep without glancing at the clock at 12:13 a.m., 1:23 a.m., 3:02 a.m., 4:02 a.m. and counting how many more hours I can sleep without oversleeping and forgetting to get up in time for get my kids ready for school. I once slept until 7:52 a.m. and was the ONLY person up in my family. (This NEVER used to happen when the kids were little. They would run into our room at the crack of you know what and get me out of bed. I loved seeing their little bodies jump in the middle of our bed, but didn’t look forward to the exhaustion that followed.) Now that they are older, 7 and 10, they tend to sleep later, which is a blessing and a curse. Basically, this means if I don’t get up, no one else does. (Including my husband, who has a gift of being able to fall asleep instantly.)

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