Do you know that feeling you get when you’re up at 1 a.m? Wide awake.
You ask yourself, “Why am I not sleeping?”
“Why am I still awake?”
You wonder, “Why did I eat that handful of chocolate chips at 10 p.m.?”
Everyone else is asleep. Your husband is passed out. You need to get up in five hours. You toss and turn. You try reading. Your clock says: 1:17 a.m.
You go downstairs and make a cup of warm milk. And proceed to burn the roof of your mouth.
It’s 1:38 a.m.
You drink a few sips of water. (Which you can’t feel because of the hot milk.)
You try to lie still. And not think. About the trillion things you have to do tomorrow.
It’s 1:43 a.m.
You check your phone.
You read a little.
It’s 3:10 a.m. Your husband is snoring like a truck driver.
You want to take a Tylenol PM, but it’s too late. You rub some random lavender lotion from 2010 on your feet. You put a pillow over your head. You get up to go to the bathroom. Wash your face. Lie down again.
Then somehow, there is nothing. Am I asleep yet? Wait for it.
BEEP –BEEP-BEEP. It’s 6:35 a.m. You hit snooze. Snooze again. And again. You glance at the clock. It’s 7:07 a.m.! “Son of a!” You peel yourself from under the covers. The sheets smell like lavender, which makes your head pound even more. Time to rush to get the kids ready for school.
If you haven’t guessed, I’ve been suffering from what I like to call Mommy Insomnia. But my kids aren’t babies any more.
Oh I remember “original” mommy insomnia. When you wake up to a crying baby at midnight, 2:30 a.m., 4:45 a.m. and finally drift off when the baby alarm clock screams again at 6:23 a.m.
Oh, girlfriend. You think sleep deprivation is over when your oldest hits junior high school? Oh, no, no, no. It’s not over. Not by a long shot. Pack your bags, because you’re in for a crazy hormonal ride, my friend.
Unless you are like my cousin who can honestly sleep through a hurricane and still get 8 hours of sleep. You have something even more random to look forward to: hormone-induced sleeplessness.
This nightmare happens to me every month.
By the time I roll out of bed, my hair looks like a bird flew into it. I feel like my forehead has been stung by a bee. My skin is chapped and dry. I look like the lead singer of a garage glam rock band from 1987.