Sleep

I have become obsessed with sleep.

My sleep habits are attrocious and I am determined to improve them. A perfectly ordinary day can be rendered either wonderful or wrist-slitty depending on how tired I am (at the moment, and for the last few weeks, Very).

Sample evening: put kids to bed, pass out, on couch or miscellaneous children's beds, at 8.17, in clothes, with head and neck at extremely sub-optimal angle (am tense about this sort of thing as I'm still convinced my MS? episode a year ago was triggered by this). Wake up 11.57, mouth like drain, all feeling lost above shoulders, completely disoriented, deathly. Get ready for bed, swear, curse, finish kitchen, put clothes in washer, brush teeth, go to bed.

Stare at ceiling.

Now completely awake.

Toss,
turn,
pop rescue pills,
become slightly drowsy,
feed woken baby,
repeat.

Fall asleep 5.18am.
Alarm goes 5.50am.

My focus this week is to go to sleep 10.30 each night, actually in my bed. And see if things improve.

The girls were also very tired and scratchy yesterday after a Saturday night sleep over. It is strange when one or both of them is away, although it is nice for Danny to get so much uninterrupted attention.

Towards the end of the day yesterday we managed to pull ourselves together to play Lauren's new birthday board game and make ratatouille (one of my favourite recipes since we gave up eating dead cow).

Peter and I also watched a movie (well, he watched, I watched and dozed) he has been waiting to see for ages - Die Hard 4, or in the case of the hero, Die Never Irrespective of Extremely Violent Experiences, and in the case of the villains, Die Eventually in Extremely Grisly Manner.