Everyday I face a formidable challenge. It's unthinkable that anyone should ever have to do this. It's requires herculean effort and extreme sacrifice. You know what I'm talking about, right?
Yes, it's that's dreaded moment when I have to get out of bed!!
Okay, I'm being a tad melodramatic. But my fellow night owls will know what I'm eluding to.
What I'm trying to tell you is, I have never been a morning person. This dates back to when I was a child. My brother was always cheerful and happy when he woke up, but I was crotchety and curmudgeonly. Truthfully, I'm not really sure what that word means, I just felt like saying it.
Curmudgeonly.
Right. Got that out of my system for now.
Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh yes, mornings. I've never been enamoured with them since childhood.
All my brother would have to do is glance sideways at me and I would wail "Geeeeet!" and then sulk and simper. Now, my brother was a bit cheeky so he'd keep winding me up. It didn't take much.
"Muuuum!" I moaned, indignant "Mark's LOOKING at me!!"
I mean, how very dare he! Everyone knows you should never commit the cardinal sin of looking at some one first thing in the morning. Worse still, imagine anybody speaking to you?! Outrageous!
It now appears that as a seasoned night owl, I have also bred a whole new generation of night owls. We are all night owls in this family. Supposedly owls are wise and intelligent creatures. We know that it's preposterous to be up at stupid o'clock. As the saying goes: ain't nobody got time for that!
There have been periods of my life when I rose early and actually went to work. At one point, when I worked at the NRMA call centre, I started work at 7am. In retrospect I am quite astonished that I did this. Both the call centre job and the getting up early to do it. Shudders.
There have even been exceedingly rare occasions when I woke up early to exercise. However, my version of 'early' was something like 7am, not at the crack of dawn. Also known as sparrow fart and stupid o'clock. See above.
Moreover, I've survived (barely) the sleep deprivation of having three children. No wonder I'm always bewildered and tired.
But there must be some coping strategies for us night owls. Such as:
- Hook yourself up to an intravenous coffee drip.
- Take nanna naps everyday.
- Quit your job or become a shift worker.
- Have a pea-sized bladder which forces you out of bed each morning to go to the loo before you explode (works for me).
- Have children. Not only will they regularly wake you early, they will intensify the effect of the pea-sized, exploding bladder by jumping on it each morning.
- Become a vampire.
- Become a witch.
- Decide that the old saying 'the early bird catches the worm' is absurd. After all, who wants worms anyway? Worms are gross!
- Become a Furry. That way you can pretend you're a pet and snooze on and off all day long.
- Become Batman.
All jokes aside, I have found the nanna nap strategy to be effective lately. Now that my boys are older and can amuse themselves by attempting to kill each other for certain periods of time, a little afternoon snooze is doable. Preferably they are power naps rather than nanna naps. The ideal outcome is that I wake up feeling refreshed and energised, instead of like a hundred year old woman named Beryl. Sometimes it works, often it doesn't (just call me Beryl). But still, I'm up for the challenge.
Additionally, some strategies that can also work for me are taking a vitamin B supplement daily, eating well and, conversely, getting regular exercise. The more I laze about the more lazy and lethargic I feel. I do have to force myself to do this but I always feel better afterwards!
Plus, I can also comfort myself with this article. The article states that these are scientifically proven reasons being a night owl is better, so it must be true. Besides, it was on the Internet so of course it's true, right? So ner!
So there you have it. Night Owls FTW!
Linking up for I Must Confess.
Are you a morning, afternoon or evening person?
Welcome to another glorious Monday! Don't you just love that feeling when you wake up on this most revered of days and the sun is flooding the room with it's mellow rays? Birds are chirruping an enchanting tune outside your window. Your eyes sparkle with uncontained enthusiasm as you fling back the bed covers bursting with joy and energy, ready to start another week?
Yeah, me neither. Farking Mondays. Who invented them, anyway? And I don't even go to work. Ahem. Shut up.
This morning we actually woke up stupendously late and then had to dash about like mad things with motors up our bums. It was most amusing. Unless you were us. In which case it was just plain annoying.
Additionally, the weather is dismal and gloomy. Grey clouds are looming with the promise of more rain. But this rain won't cool things down. It will still be hot and humid. Ridiculous. But I shouldn't complain. Except I just did. Oops. At least I'm not in Queensland, where Cyclone Marcia has wreaked her havoc. I hope everyone up there is keeping safe.
Anyway, without further ado, I now announce that the rest of today is officially cancelled. Of course, as usual I have no authority whatsoever to do this, but that has never stopped me before. DETAILS.
Please note that by the time I get around to actually posting this it will no longer be Monday, rendering all of the above obsolete. Except I have discovered that Tuesday mornings are no better. And all weekday mornings. Even Saturday is about to become fraught with early morning soccer for the boys. So frankly, all mornings suck. The end.
And now, moving on to other pressing matters. Today I am making the monumental confession of my middle name. I know you've spent many hours pondering this, tossing and turning unable to sleep at night without this vital information. I must put you out of your misery. Therefore, I can now announce that my middle name is....
Drum roll, please.....
RAPUNZEL.
Worth waiting for, wasn't it? Quite ridiculous really. Vanessa Rapunzel. Hmmm, it does have a ring to it. I did have really long hair as a child, too. But there's only one problem.
I made that up. It's not really Rapunzel. Had you fooled, didn't I?What? Not for a second? HMPH. You smarty pants.
Fancy a multiple choice quiz? You don't? Too bad, you're getting one anyway!
May I present to you my middle muddled riddle! OK, technically it's not really a riddle, it's a multiple choice question. But why do you have to be so pedantic? I've been reading WAY too many Dr Suess books with Mr 6, so just humour me, OK? My middle name is:
a) Esmerelda
b) Jane
c) Anne
d) All of the above
e) None of the above
If you answered with c, then I WISH you were right. I would love to have Anne with an 'e' as my middle name. But alas, my parents didn't choose any of those names. The correct answer is, of course, e. Tricked you!
The suspense is killing you, right? Or you couldn't less, one or the other. If it's the latter, then we're done here. Click away NOW. See how easy that was? Now that we're rid of the riff raff, I can finally make my stunning revelation.
My middle name REALLY is.....
Bring back that drum roll....
FAYE!
With a totally redundant e on the end! Yay for redundant e's!!
This is exactly the same as my Mum's middle name.
But do you want to know something really funny? Like Mickey Blue Eyes' middle name? It's... wait for it... Raeburn. Snorts. Seriously. It really is. I shouldn't laugh, because it was his grandfather's name or something.
Oh well, who really uses middle names anyway? Only when you fill out forms. In which case you just want something short and simple, so Faye fits that criteria.
And now you will have a blissful nights sleep tonight replete with that fascinating information. You're most welcome.
Stay tuned for the next thrilling update when I reveal something even more earth shattering. As soon as I figure out what it is...
Linking up for I Must Confess.
What's your middle name?
I've decided that all my posts are so astonishing and BRILLIANT I should regurgitate another one! Why not? Don't answer that...
I feel like I could sleep for approximately a billion years. At least a decade, anyway. Maybe a year. A month, then? A solid eight hours, pretty please? Oh fuck it, I'll settle for a Nanna nap.
I never used to indulge in Nanna naps. Now they are become frequent happenings in my increasingly cutting edge lifestyle. I remember how my Mum always dozed off in the lounge chair of an afternoon or evening. I am turning into my Mother. Except I'm not. I never can.
You see, my Mother is one of those freakish people that are called: Morning People. Something I have never been. Never will be. Even growing human beings inside me and birthing them has not transformed me. Quite the opposite. You just become even more sleep deprived once you're a parent. If I ever am forced to be up early, every fibre of my being is violently protesting against it.
I remember reading Betty White's book If You Ask Me (And Of Course You Won't), where she talks about her passion and enthusiasm for life. Apparently she only needs four hours of sleep to be functioning and raring to go. The woman is about 150 years old. Or something. Really old, anyway. Four hours sleep? I couldn't function on that when I had a newborn that needed to be fed constantly, and I certainly can't function on it now.
My Mum, like Betty, also has that enviable ability to sleep for 4-6 hours, get up and keep going all day, sustained only by her chair snoozes. I, on the other hand, need a solid eight hours. Truthfully, ten would be even better. Even on the rare occasions when I achieve this, mornings are not my friend. I am still in a mental fog until midday. Oh who I am kidding, mental fogginess is a permanent state for me.
It probably helps that Betty White never had children. The sleep deprivation once they arrive is quite astonishing in intensity. Everybody warns you, but there is no preparation for it. It is like the most extreme jet lag you can imagine multiplied in intensity a billion times. Only worse, because you also have a shrieking infant to care for who is never going to let you catch up on your sleep debt. So this permanently jet-lagged, exhausted state just becomes a way of life.
For some inexplicable reason once you are already in the trenches of such sleep deprivation, you somehow convince yourself that it won't make any difference having that second or third child. HA! This is where you will discover how completely and absurdly wrong you can be. It gets worse.
Of course I am one of those nonsensical creatures who is capable of further complicating my quest for slumber. Each night, we engage in a highly intelligent game of 'Musical Beds'. This reminds me of an episode of the American sit-com The Middle, where Mum Frankie, (played by Patricia Heaton) says: If you're a parent and you're not doing this (musical beds), you're a liar. I'd have to concur with Frankie/Patricia. Meanwhile, I should possibly be somewhat alarmed instead of amused that we are almost like an Aussie version of the Hecks from The Middle. Classy.
Additionally, I am also an introvert and an Aspie. This means that certain things that others would find energising and refreshing, such as socialising, shopping or travelling, leave me feeling utterly drained. I need days to recover from such things. I have no idea how people manage to juggle work and a family. I am in awe of the parents who do this. I need to reserve my energy for coping with three beautiful, but boisterous boys. So I'm a stay at home Mum, even though I'm no domestic goddess. Ahem.
Another interesting element adding to our sleep deprivation dilemma is dreaming. Each day, Micky Blue Eyes and I wake up, looking shell shocked and hungover, and discuss our wild, erratic dreams. Neither of us seem to have a blissful night of deep, dreamless sleep. Instead we are constantly bombarded with these crazy dreams. It's as if we both have a secret drug habit, but I can assure you that the only ice I'm familiar with is the stuff I put in my scotch. And I only have one nip not an entire bottle!
My dreams are difficult to remember and so nonsensical and disjointed that they wouldn't make sense anyway. Some recurring themes of dreams I do remember fragments of, are:
Houses
Usually they will be houses that I spent time in as a child, like my Aunty Eileen's house, complete with the bright orange 1970's kitchen that I remember, but sometimes they are unfamiliar houses.
Toilets
The sheer desperation to find one fast! When I do, there is usually no privacy: no door, or a huge window and I have to keep looking. Not surprisingly, I usually wake up from these dreams bursting to pee.
Clothes
The inability to find any that fit me and a pressing urgency to be dressed and ready as I'm expecting visitors at any second.
School/Exams
I am due back at school with exams looming. Sometimes the clothes thing is combined and I'm looking for something to wear (obviously I can't bring myself to don a school uniform as an adult, even in a dream). I keep wondering why I have to go back and how to get out of it. I'm always so relieved when I wake up.
CONCLUSION: I am a deep and complex person with a pea-sized bladder, who fears exams, not having any clothes and wishes to revert back to childhood places?? Something like that, anyway. It's nice to have yourself figured out at this advanced age.
Anyway, I think I just need to surrender to this zombie like existence. Sleepless nights are not fading fast for me. Last week Mr 12 became Mr 13. Meaning, I am now heading into the teenage years. Yep, I can forget about sleeping. I'll just have to develop an ability to exist on Power Naps. I'm ready for The 30 Day Napping Challenge, as seen floating around Facey. I think I can give this a red hot go. Care to join me?
Linking up for I Must Confess.
How have you been sleeping? Do you remember your dreams?
