6 Hours, Or My Body Hates Me

Little L sleeps through the night. She usually goes for a solid 9-11 hours before she wakes up, usually talking and laughing and using her outside voice right beside my ear (good thing it's my right ear, which happens to be the deaf one).

I, however, do not sleep through the night. I wake up after six consecutive hours of slumber, like clockwork. It matters not that I went to bed at 10:00 pm (a normal bedtime), or 2:30 am (a vampire bedtime). Add six hours, and I'm up. It's not like one of those half-alert kinds of wake-ups, too. I'm talking about a full-blown, brain-engaged, time-to-get-up alertness that prevents me from returning to blissful rest for at least a few hours. Trust me, I've tried everything to get back to sleep (well, not medication, but just about everything else). You can't turn off a brain that wants to be awake.

(As an aside, this is why I don't force Little L to sleep when she isn't ready. Have you tried sleeping when you weren't tired? It's torture, and the very thought of trying to relax and go to sleep can sometimes work you up even more. Sometimes it is just better to let nature take its course, and spend those hours productively instead of tossing and turning on a bed that you know you won't be sleeping on, anyway.)

I think I've always been like this, and while the 6-hour-rest has worked to my advantage in high school (I used to wake up at the crack of dawn to shower and get made up to go to class, LOL) and in university, and even when I was teaching, it doesn't really have the same awesomeness now that I'm a mommy. Why? Because I'm older than I used to be, and whereas before I could function well for an entire 18-hour period on those brief 6 hours, I can't seem to fare so easily now. Plus, back then I could take naps after class, or after school, or even after work. Now I have a munchkin I have to keep up with all day long, which means that while I want to take that mid-afternoon nap, or at least have a bit of quiet time in the middle of the day, I can't, at least not when she's up and at 'em. And truth be told, usually I can't sleep even when I do get the opportunity to rest mid-day. So what do I do? I have a second latte. It's a horrible habit, but then again, so is a 6-hour sleep. And my body hates me.

Anyway, I write this so that you're not surprised when I drop dead at age 47, or tomorrow. I'm pretty sure I am supposed to sleep longer than this, but since my entire being is on strike from all that is healthy and good (read: 9-hour sleeps), then I have no confidence that my organs won't just randomly quit one day.

I think it's time for another latte.