It's midnight. I'm scared to go to sleep. My eyes are heavy, my body is tired. And yet I fight it. I read, I clean, I relax. I do yoga, I breathe, I worship. I watch TV, I eat, I go on Facebook. I pray, I journal, I sing. I check on the kids. And then I start the list all over again until I just can't take it anymore. With lead in my feet, I drag myself upstairs to bed.
I read Psalm 3:24-17 and Isaiah 26:3. "When you lie down, you will not be afraid. When you lie down, your sleep will be sweet. Do not be afraid of sudden fear, nor of the onslaught of the wicked when it comes. For the Lord will be your confidence, and will keep your foot from being caught." "You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you". I put on Fernando Ortega's hymns, with my water bottle and ice pack on my nightstand, ready and waiting. I drift off to sleep.
A few hours later, I awake gasping for air. It terrifies me. You would think that about THREE WEEKS into this, that I would be used to it by now. I kind of am, but then again, I'm not. So I do everything it takes to return to a normal breathing pattern. I almost always enlist my husband's help as I panic, "I need water, ice, prayer!". Eventually, I calm back down and go to sleep.
Until two little angelic faces appear by my bedside way too soon, "Mommy, it's morning time". I open one eye and see that it's still dark out. Yep. That is when my household of little persons awakes. Every morning. For 5+ years. You would think that I would have gotten used to it by now. I kind of am, but then again, I'm not.
I stumble down the stairs, with 2 kids in my arms. We then proceed to snuggle on the couch while watching Mr. Rogers Neighborhood. Yes. You read that correctly. My kids love Mr. Rogers. And it's okay. Don't be jealous. Then, before I know it, I'm making coffee, building lego structures, playing dress up, jumping on the trampoline, whipping together a somewhat nutritious breakfast, answering questions from my always curious children, packing lunches, washing dishes, getting everyone dressed, reading bible stories, doing teeth inspections, potty time, feeding the pets, checking emails, and running out the door while putting on earrings and still wearing my slippers, praying that my car starts so that we can make it to school in time for the Pledge of Allegiance. Earrings are more important than shoes, apparently.
I buckle the kids in to their car seats, load the car with all the miscellaneous stuff kids need to get them through the day(good heavens, it's ridiculous!), grab my coffee as it spills all over me, so I run back inside to change, grab my car keys that I left inside of course and my wedding rings that I had taken off when I planned to hop in the shower, but realized there wasn't any time, so I put on a hat instead. Then I return to the car and we turn up the Boo Hoo Crew cd that is always on repeat in my car, and make the drive to school as we sing at the top of our lungs "We're on our way to school today!"
As I look at the clock while waiting in traffic on the freeway, I realize it is only 7:30am. That's right. The rest of the world is still sleeping. And here I am, already desiring a nap. I breathe in and out deeply, as I take a sip of my cold coffee, and glance back at my precious children smiling back at me. I thank God that I am alive and that I get to do this again tomorrow. I keep telling myself that I have the best job EVER. And that everyone wishes they had mornings like mine. Then I start laughing at myself, and that is what gets me through the day. Laughter is good medicine. Did you notice that I only described in detail what happens in the MORNING? And only TWO mornings a week, because I home school the rest of the time. I am sure you can use your imagination for what the afternoon/evening looks like. That is what I laugh a lot. It brings joy and eases the frustration of sleep deprivation.
Can anyone relate?