The Genetic Lure of Codeine

While nestled into my bed, waiting on the effects of codeine cough syrup to come over me, I had a series of thoughts. I was partially convinced I was having one of those moments where I needed to get up and write them down because there were some good things floating past my slowly drug induced mind.The other part of me, the part in control of actually get up or nah, decided to stay firmly tucked into my well made bed. I was waiting on what I've come to think of as The Wash to take place.

I'm particularly susceptible to codeine. Any sort of opiate thing, in fact, and I don't tend to get along terribly well. They gave me morphine after a surgical procedure once and the intense vomiting that occurred moments later is post-op legend. But codeine is morphine's saccharine cousin. I'm sick, need to sleep and not cough all night so I carefully ladle out the dose prescribed - not more - and wait.

Last night I did the same and The Wash was quick and strong. About ten minutes after having slipped into bed the itching began. This is apparently a sign that I've got a wee allergy but I don't mind it. It's indicative that the sleep is coming and that's what I crave.

Deep, relaxing slumber - a sick girls best friend.

My face began to itch, my nose and my chest, my legs and feet. The itching rolls across my skin like a weird "Hello" and I know that behind it is a pull down into blissful rest. I slept so well last night that I probably built up tonight's rest too much.

I dosed myself, again exactly the right amount - never more. I climbed into bed and waited. I waited some more. Soon I realized it had been 30 minutes with no sign.

I rolled over and considered why I might not be sleeping. The addiction demon on my shoulder encouraged me to TAKE SOME MORE. I get the addiction demon very honestly from my father's side of the family. He comes out when I'm out drinking apparently also. I try not to listen to him because he's real and he destroys lives. Also opiates can stop you from breathing so I definitely ignore him in terms of medicine. But that lure, the idea that "just some more" is starting to pull.

I remind myself that while codeine isn't morphine it's a bad thing to take too much of any medicine. I remind myself that they give you morphine when you die and eventually it helps your body forget to breathe. Codeine is also an opiate, I remind myself, and everyone reacts to drugs differently. "You don't want to be one of those people who died in 2016 and everyone thinks is so great now that your'e dead," I tell myself and roll over again.

The problem begins to gnaw at me as I cough again, and again. Dry coughs, the kind that hurt and are small, but shouldn't exist if my cough medicine would just kick in. I want to sleep, why am I listening to Miles sing in the next room? 

I want to sleep. I want the deep dark night to pull me into it and out of this terrible sickness for a few hours. I want escape. I drank the thing that said drink me. Now please, take me out of here.

It was right about then, when my mind was twisting with frustration over it's lack of sleep that I woke up. My husband was placing his hand on my forehead to check my fever, and to check on me to see if I was alright. 

I had been asleep all along.

The Genetic Lure of Codeine

While nestled into my bed, waiting on the effects of codeine cough syrup to come over me, I had a series of thoughts. I was partially convinced I was having one of those moments where I needed to get up and write them down because there were some good things floating past my slowly drug induced mind.The other part of me, the part in control of actually get up or nah, decided to stay firmly tucked into my well made bed. I was waiting on what I've come to think of as The Wash to take place.

I'm particularly susceptible to codeine. Any sort of opiate thing, in fact, and I don't tend to get along terribly well. They gave me morphine after a surgical procedure once and the intense vomiting that occurred moments later is post-op legend. But codeine is morphine's saccharine cousin. I'm sick, need to sleep and not cough all night so I carefully ladle out the dose prescribed - not more - and wait.

Last night I did the same and The Wash was quick and strong. About ten minutes after having slipped into bed the itching began. This is apparently a sign that I've got a wee allergy but I don't mind it. It's indicative that the sleep is coming and that's what I crave.

Deep, relaxing slumber - a sick girls best friend.

My face began to itch, my nose and my chest, my legs and feet. The itching rolls across my skin like a weird "Hello" and I know that behind it is a pull down into blissful rest. I slept so well last night that I probably built up tonight's rest too much.

I dosed myself, again exactly the right amount - never more. I climbed into bed and waited. I waited some more. Soon I realized it had been 30 minutes with no sign.

I rolled over and considered why I might not be sleeping. The addiction demon on my shoulder encouraged me to TAKE SOME MORE. I get the addiction demon very honestly from my father's side of the family. He comes out when I'm out drinking apparently also. I try not to listen to him because he's real and he destroys lives. Also opiates can stop you from breathing so I definitely ignore him in terms of medicine. But that lure, the idea that "just some more" is starting to pull.

I remind myself that while codeine isn't morphine it's a bad thing to take too much of any medicine. I remind myself that they give you morphine when you die and eventually it helps your body forget to breathe. Codeine is also an opiate, I remind myself, and everyone reacts to drugs differently. "You don't want to be one of those people who died in 2016 and everyone thinks is so great now that your'e dead," I tell myself and roll over again.

The problem begins to gnaw at me as I cough again, and again. Dry coughs, the kind that hurt and are small, but shouldn't exist if my cough medicine would just kick in. I want to sleep, why am I listening to Miles sing in the next room? 

I want to sleep. I want the deep dark night to pull me into it and out of this terrible sickness for a few hours. I want escape. I drank the thing that said drink me. Now please, take me out of here.

It was right about then, when my mind was twisting with frustration over it's lack of sleep that I woke up. My husband was placing his hand on my forehead to check my fever, and to check on me to see if I was alright. 

I had been asleep all along.

The Safety Dance

I loved horror once upon a time. I loved the suspense of well written horror. I love the jumps and shocks of scary movies. I've been known to indulge in some pretty gross movie-wise stuff with my birthday twin Nikki so I can say that I definitely have loved some horror.

Time has changed that for me and I've addressed it before, I'm sure, but I just got a shaking reminder of how weak I am in front of FEAR and DANGER when presented well.

I just finished Stephen King's REVIVAL and I can say with a certainty that I had a strong idea of what the horror was going to be very early in the book. It was so interesting to read, the characters painted in that east coast charm of his (even those not from the east coast) that I couldn't stop. I wanted to know for sure HOW it unfolded, what it manifested into.

Except that I forgot one important little detail. I can't feel unsafe. If something moves me to the place where my mind can feel unsafe I simply can't handle it. Maybe it's motherhood. Maybe it's mortality finally settling in. But I know one thing for certain, I have to be in control and I have to be safe and know everyone I love is safe.

I couldn't watch Walking Dead because not only did I cry during all three episodes I watched, but because it evoked in me an all encompassing dread feeling of NOWHERE IS SAFE. That shit takes place in Atlanta and I'm in Atlanta and oh hell no I can't have that.

This book rolled me into a similar but maybe more all encompassing dread. Painting a picture of inescapable fate, one that waits for us all, I found myself getting more and more drawn in to the words. The pictures he painted, the aberrations of reality loomed on the page sharply and I got everything he meant.

And then I realized I am never, ever going to fucking sleep tonight.

My heart is pounding still a bit, thinking on it too much.

I hate to think I'm too much of a wuss to read one of my favorites but maybe it's come to that. I can't stand that idea, I love King. I want more and more of The Dark Tower. I love his work. But man, I'm not sure I'm going to sleep again, not even in the arms of the Dragon.

IT WAS PHANTASM SCARY. And that's all Generation X needs to know.

The Safety Dance

I loved horror once upon a time. I loved the suspense of well written horror. I love the jumps and shocks of scary movies. I've been known to indulge in some pretty gross movie-wise stuff with my birthday twin Nikki so I can say that I definitely have loved some horror.

Time has changed that for me and I've addressed it before, I'm sure, but I just got a shaking reminder of how weak I am in front of FEAR and DANGER when presented well.

I just finished Stephen King's REVIVAL and I can say with a certainty that I had a strong idea of what the horror was going to be very early in the book. It was so interesting to read, the characters painted in that east coast charm of his (even those not from the east coast) that I couldn't stop. I wanted to know for sure HOW it unfolded, what it manifested into.

Except that I forgot one important little detail. I can't feel unsafe. If something moves me to the place where my mind can feel unsafe I simply can't handle it. Maybe it's motherhood. Maybe it's mortality finally settling in. But I know one thing for certain, I have to be in control and I have to be safe and know everyone I love is safe.

I couldn't watch Walking Dead because not only did I cry during all three episodes I watched, but because it evoked in me an all encompassing dread feeling of NOWHERE IS SAFE. That shit takes place in Atlanta and I'm in Atlanta and oh hell no I can't have that.

This book rolled me into a similar but maybe more all encompassing dread. Painting a picture of inescapable fate, one that waits for us all, I found myself getting more and more drawn in to the words. The pictures he painted, the aberrations of reality loomed on the page sharply and I got everything he meant.

And then I realized I am never, ever going to fucking sleep tonight.

My heart is pounding still a bit, thinking on it too much.

I hate to think I'm too much of a wuss to read one of my favorites but maybe it's come to that. I can't stand that idea, I love King. I want more and more of The Dark Tower. I love his work. But man, I'm not sure I'm going to sleep again, not even in the arms of the Dragon.

IT WAS PHANTASM SCARY. And that's all Generation X needs to know.

Triangles and Wommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

I fell into bed early, and slept like someone who had a full day of fresh mountain air that was crisp and full of goodness. I slept hard, drooling on my husband's pillow until the sound made me sit straight up in bed.
It was was Julia. I heard her voice say something and I sat up. I could see down the hall, though, and her door was shut. I sat up on the side of the bed, waiting for more words.
"Triangles, triangles, T T TRIANGLES..." the voice continued. It wasn't Julia but I couldn't figure it out. It was such a tiny voice.
It occurred to me that it was Miles, and autism had woken him up or was making him chatty in his sleep. There were more ABCs and random words. Sometimes Autism is the puppy-baby-monkey of life. I got back under the covers and closed my eyes when I became aware of something else.

WOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The earth was making a sound. Or, something was. This loud hummming, this sound. I got up and looked out the window to make sure I wasn't ground zero for some invasion but no, there was nothing. In fact I realized it wasn't a sound I was hearing, It was a sound I was feeling. I crawled back into bed, aware that the whole world was buzzing and wondered if I was dreaming.

I opened my eyes again, and realized that I was only feeling this because it was so still, so very quiet. The whole world was buzzing to me. I knew what the feeling was.

It was Everything.


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Triangles and Wommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

I fell into bed early, and slept like someone who had a full day of fresh mountain air that was crisp and full of goodness. I slept hard, drooling on my husband's pillow until the sound made me sit straight up in bed.
It was was Julia. I heard her voice say something and I sat up. I could see down the hall, though, and her door was shut. I sat up on the side of the bed, waiting for more words.
"Triangles, triangles, T T TRIANGLES..." the voice continued. It wasn't Julia but I couldn't figure it out. It was such a tiny voice.
It occurred to me that it was Miles, and autism had woken him up or was making him chatty in his sleep. There were more ABCs and random words. Sometimes Autism is the puppy-baby-monkey of life. I got back under the covers and closed my eyes when I became aware of something else.

WOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The earth was making a sound. Or, something was. This loud hummming, this sound. I got up and looked out the window to make sure I wasn't ground zero for some invasion but no, there was nothing. In fact I realized it wasn't a sound I was hearing, It was a sound I was feeling. I crawled back into bed, aware that the whole world was buzzing and wondered if I was dreaming.

I opened my eyes again, and realized that I was only feeling this because it was so still, so very quiet. The whole world was buzzing to me. I knew what the feeling was.

It was Everything.


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Sleep Lay Behind Me Like a Broken Ocean

It's 5:19 am and I've been awake for more than an hour. Traditionally I go to sleep fast. I can wake up ten times a night and then immediately roll over and be back to sleep in nothing flat. Often I don't recall that I've awoken. Not tonight.

First I realize I'm in the grips of aches and pains. I ache. I pain. No position is comfortable except flat on my back and I don't want to sleep on my back I am a side sleeper. Then I keep drifting into almost dreams, that are more like thoughts but you realize you are awake quickly and make note that

• Louis is never allowed to base jump
• Strangers need to stop asking to hug and or hold Julia
• I need to weed the front garden
• Most of my clothes don't fit me
• I need to clean my desk
• and so on and so forth

About 10 minutes ago I realized that in addition to my brain being in overdrive, I'm STARVING. I'm straight up hungry as hell. I have no reason to be hungry as hell. I ate about 1800 calories yesterday. But I'm ravenous. So I've given myself two Viactive chews and some almond milk, and now I'm having a coffee. I would have fed myself but omg it's five am I can't make food right now. I can barely sit up.

I'm tired you see. I'm legitimately tired as hell.

But my brain, my brain won't stop. I'm so busy at work. It's another full calendar day. But I think that one meeting is wrong so YAY I just gained and hour shhhh don't tell anyone. I have so much to do, I don't know how to even get it done.

I'm worried about my dad. My father is failing. I'm trying to get home to see him, before he's so far gone that it doesn't matter. I've wondered repeatedly if he's died, in the past hour, and that this is why I'm awake. Maybe some universal energy woke me up to say YOUR FATHER IS DEAD. I wonder if my brother would call me at 4 am, or just let me sleep knowing that there is nothing to gain from waking me up? I don't know which I would prefer. 

I used to get insomnia the night before I got my period. But I haven't HAD a period in years now thanks to the endometrium ablation I had. However we've learned that while they used to think they are 100% effective - like when I had mine, now they know that they aren't. Am I getting my period? This thought annoys me and makes me more awake. I remember that stupid internet tests I keep taking keep suggesting I am having a baby in the next year. I have to remind myself I had my tubes tied. I'm worried that the internet is self aware, and has powers of precognition.

Maybe it's the coffee I had at Marlowe's tavern last night with the twins club mom's night out. I'm awake. I'm SO SO SO SO FUCKING AWAKE. But I went to sleep just fine. So no, that can't be it.

Of course now I've had coffee, so that's probably why I'm so damn sharp and awake right now.

Now Charlie is up, because I'm a loud typist. I think that comes from having learned to type on a typewriter back when you had to hit the keys like you meant it. I strike the keys with intention, consequently I am probably annoying five others right now.

It feels like the right thing to do, to have stop being frustrated and just get the hell up, however. Mentally the angst of desperately wanting sleep is slipping away. It's just sleep, I'll get some tonight. If I feel like I can't sleep I'll take a benadryl or something. 

This is my insomnia face. 

I'm not smiling, because I am damned tired.

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Sleep Lay Behind Me Like a Broken Ocean

It's 5:19 am and I've been awake for more than an hour. Traditionally I go to sleep fast. I can wake up ten times a night and then immediately roll over and be back to sleep in nothing flat. Often I don't recall that I've awoken. Not tonight.

First I realize I'm in the grips of aches and pains. I ache. I pain. No position is comfortable except flat on my back and I don't want to sleep on my back I am a side sleeper. Then I keep drifting into almost dreams, that are more like thoughts but you realize you are awake quickly and make note that

• Louis is never allowed to base jump
• Strangers need to stop asking to hug and or hold Julia
• I need to weed the front garden
• Most of my clothes don't fit me
• I need to clean my desk
• and so on and so forth

About 10 minutes ago I realized that in addition to my brain being in overdrive, I'm STARVING. I'm straight up hungry as hell. I have no reason to be hungry as hell. I ate about 1800 calories yesterday. But I'm ravenous. So I've given myself two Viactive chews and some almond milk, and now I'm having a coffee. I would have fed myself but omg it's five am I can't make food right now. I can barely sit up.

I'm tired you see. I'm legitimately tired as hell.

But my brain, my brain won't stop. I'm so busy at work. It's another full calendar day. But I think that one meeting is wrong so YAY I just gained and hour shhhh don't tell anyone. I have so much to do, I don't know how to even get it done.

I'm worried about my dad. My father is failing. I'm trying to get home to see him, before he's so far gone that it doesn't matter. I've wondered repeatedly if he's died, in the past hour, and that this is why I'm awake. Maybe some universal energy woke me up to say YOUR FATHER IS DEAD. I wonder if my brother would call me at 4 am, or just let me sleep knowing that there is nothing to gain from waking me up? I don't know which I would prefer. 

I used to get insomnia the night before I got my period. But I haven't HAD a period in years now thanks to the endometrium ablation I had. However we've learned that while they used to think they are 100% effective - like when I had mine, now they know that they aren't. Am I getting my period? This thought annoys me and makes me more awake. I remember that stupid internet tests I keep taking keep suggesting I am having a baby in the next year. I have to remind myself I had my tubes tied. I'm worried that the internet is self aware, and has powers of precognition.

Maybe it's the coffee I had at Marlowe's tavern last night with the twins club mom's night out. I'm awake. I'm SO SO SO SO FUCKING AWAKE. But I went to sleep just fine. So no, that can't be it.

Of course now I've had coffee, so that's probably why I'm so damn sharp and awake right now.

Now Charlie is up, because I'm a loud typist. I think that comes from having learned to type on a typewriter back when you had to hit the keys like you meant it. I strike the keys with intention, consequently I am probably annoying five others right now.

It feels like the right thing to do, to have stop being frustrated and just get the hell up, however. Mentally the angst of desperately wanting sleep is slipping away. It's just sleep, I'll get some tonight. If I feel like I can't sleep I'll take a benadryl or something. 

This is my insomnia face. 

I'm not smiling, because I am damned tired.

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She's Big Time Now

I'm a bit like Don Corleone. I spoil my children, and they talk when they should listen. I also let them sleep with me forever and ever and ever. 

My youngest child is the most spoiled child in that regard. The oldest boy was out of my bed quite late but was out by the time he was three-ish. The girl is a solid four and expressed zero desire to ever leave my bed.

She had her reasons you see. There are noises outside. There are trains, and bugs, and airplanes and helicopters. Even though she knows what these things are, they scare her in the dark and she needs me. She needs me -and I cannot resist her.

So we've been talking to her though, about getting to sleep in her own bed and it was agreed that if ONLY she had a sound machine, she'd sleep in her own bed. She wanted a sound machine that was an Elsa doll that would sing LET IT GO. We settled on one that played lullabies and projected a friendly moon and stars on the ceiling. 

I admit, I was skeptical. This isn't my first time at the parenting rodeo and I'm a bit immune to kids telling me that if they JUST HAD THIS ONE THING EVERYTHING WOULD CHANGE. 

Except that, it did.

She was excited and ready for bed. Ready to turn on her machine. She snuggled down into her bed and we turned it on and I kissed her goodnight, and retreated to my own room. I waited.

I read a book. I waited some more. She didn't come. 

The next morning she insisted we call grandma and grandpa to tell them that she is a big girl like her cousins. She extolled the virtues of her sound machine. 

Last night, it was the same. I waited for her. And she didn't come. At 4 am she ended up in my bed because Charlie was screaming for unknown autism reasons and scared her. She tells me tonight she's ready to sleep in her bed again. 

Because she's a big girl.

And suddenly, I'm all out of babies. 

She's Big Time Now

I'm a bit like Don Corleone. I spoil my children, and they talk when they should listen. I also let them sleep with me forever and ever and ever. 

My youngest child is the most spoiled child in that regard. The oldest boy was out of my bed quite late but was out by the time he was three-ish. The girl is a solid four and expressed zero desire to ever leave my bed.

She had her reasons you see. There are noises outside. There are trains, and bugs, and airplanes and helicopters. Even though she knows what these things are, they scare her in the dark and she needs me. She needs me -and I cannot resist her.

So we've been talking to her though, about getting to sleep in her own bed and it was agreed that if ONLY she had a sound machine, she'd sleep in her own bed. She wanted a sound machine that was an Elsa doll that would sing LET IT GO. We settled on one that played lullabies and projected a friendly moon and stars on the ceiling. 

I admit, I was skeptical. This isn't my first time at the parenting rodeo and I'm a bit immune to kids telling me that if they JUST HAD THIS ONE THING EVERYTHING WOULD CHANGE. 

Except that, it did.

She was excited and ready for bed. Ready to turn on her machine. She snuggled down into her bed and we turned it on and I kissed her goodnight, and retreated to my own room. I waited.

I read a book. I waited some more. She didn't come. 

The next morning she insisted we call grandma and grandpa to tell them that she is a big girl like her cousins. She extolled the virtues of her sound machine. 

Last night, it was the same. I waited for her. And she didn't come. At 4 am she ended up in my bed because Charlie was screaming for unknown autism reasons and scared her. She tells me tonight she's ready to sleep in her bed again. 

Because she's a big girl.

And suddenly, I'm all out of babies. 

In Dreams

Something odd happened to me yesterday morning.

I woke up, sitting on the side of my bed, holding my phone. This is pretty bizarre and doesn't happen. I HAVE woken up holding my phone before. Apparently I need to talk to Siri in my sleep.

Yesterday though, I thought it was odd but went about my morning - coffee, kids to school, life, etc. At some point though, I looked at my plurks for the day. (Plurk is a social network you don't use, don't worry about it).

I see this plurk.
"I wanted to go back to sleep. But someone fucked with my alarm time and now I am too tired to do the math on how far off my clock is so I can sort out how long I can sleep."

I had NO memory of writing this. Which seems odd. I thought maybe I woke up, plurked that, then snoozed a bit and woke up AGAIN or something.

Until I got home, and no, my clock was not off some random amount of time, it was off 10 minutes exactly like it's supposed to be.

I was sleep plurking.

I've been a sleep walker forever, and a sleep talker. Julia has inherited this. She woke me up at 4 am to come to her room because Elmo was lost. When I got there, she just stood in the middle of her room and cried. It was 4 am and I was bleary eyed, so I pointed out Elmo is on her sheets and that was good enough. We both went back to sleep.

It keeps things interesting. That's for sure.

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In Dreams

Something odd happened to me yesterday morning.

I woke up, sitting on the side of my bed, holding my phone. This is pretty bizarre and doesn't happen. I HAVE woken up holding my phone before. Apparently I need to talk to Siri in my sleep.

Yesterday though, I thought it was odd but went about my morning - coffee, kids to school, life, etc. At some point though, I looked at my plurks for the day. (Plurk is a social network you don't use, don't worry about it).

I see this plurk.
"I wanted to go back to sleep. But someone fucked with my alarm time and now I am too tired to do the math on how far off my clock is so I can sort out how long I can sleep."

I had NO memory of writing this. Which seems odd. I thought maybe I woke up, plurked that, then snoozed a bit and woke up AGAIN or something.

Until I got home, and no, my clock was not off some random amount of time, it was off 10 minutes exactly like it's supposed to be.

I was sleep plurking.

I've been a sleep walker forever, and a sleep talker. Julia has inherited this. She woke me up at 4 am to come to her room because Elmo was lost. When I got there, she just stood in the middle of her room and cried. It was 4 am and I was bleary eyed, so I pointed out Elmo is on her sheets and that was good enough. We both went back to sleep.

It keeps things interesting. That's for sure.

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Snuggletime Roulette

I guess you officially call it attachment parenting. I don't even care. I kind of thumb my nose at the term and call it stupid hippie crap. Everyone parents differently. What works for me doesn't work for you, and so on. If attachment parenting includes the fact that I love to sleep with my kids then yeah, guilty as charged.

 

The challenge then becomes the logistics of four snugglers and one mother. 

The girl child has it easy. I'm not ashamed to admit she still sleeps with me. We go to bed together, and we read stories by the light on my iPhone, and make shadow puppets on the wall (mostly bunnies and dinosaurs RAWR). Eventually we settle down into ONE last drink, and some cudly kisses and we're asleep. If I don't move her shortly thereafter, her daddy moves her when he comes to bed. She usually returns some time in the 5 am hour. Toddles back to bed, taps me on the arm and says "mommysnuggle" which is all one word if you're doing it right.

Usually, like today, Miles shows up about 6 or 7am. He rests a hand on my arm if the girl is in his spot. I will move her to her toddler bed and then it's snuggling with Miles and Mommy. Usually though, unless it's VERY early, Miles is UP for the day. He indulges me in some cuddling and kisses, and then as I drift back to sleep he pulls a book out of nowhere and sits and reads. Sometimes he brings two or three books and piles them on me. I don't even care.

Charlie is the X Factor. Some mornings, he beats Miles to the snuggle spot. However Charlie can rarely be quiet, so he giggles and carries on until mom gets up. Or he comes in, once Miles is in the snuggling spot, and asks for drinnks of water, and hops around the room making various noises.Today I decided at 7:30 am that I wasn't getting more sleep and that coffee and writing were calling, so here I am. When I got up, Charlie spent a full 10 minutes on my lap hugging and cuddling like a little tiny boy. Have I mentioned that he is not a little tiny boy? He's giant.


It is my sweet Lou that gets the shortest stick in terms of cuddles these days. He admittedly spent the most number of years tucked under my right arm but most nights, I make him go to his own bed. Last night he wanted so badly to sleep with me and Julia. I made him a deal that he can sleep with us tomorrow and that appeased him. But I know as well as anyone else that he's at the age that he really doesn't need to be sleeping with me.

So I transitioned it as a treat, like a sleepover, fun and cuddles once in a while and most of the time he sleeps in his own bed.

People will say things like "You'll never get them out of your bed." Really? They gonna go off to college and come home to sleep in my bed every night?

I won't ever get these days of childhood back, nor will my children. I will never regret one night of elbows in my back or someones little head laying on mine like it's a pillow. When I die, if they only thing anyone ever has to say about me is that I gave my children years worth of cuddles, then I'm ok with that.

I will never apologize for our snuggletime roulette. It's one of the best things ever.

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Snuggletime Roulette

I guess you officially call it attachment parenting. I don't even care. I kind of thumb my nose at the term and call it stupid hippie crap. Everyone parents differently. What works for me doesn't work for you, and so on. If attachment parenting includes the fact that I love to sleep with my kids then yeah, guilty as charged.

 

The challenge then becomes the logistics of four snugglers and one mother. 

The girl child has it easy. I'm not ashamed to admit she still sleeps with me. We go to bed together, and we read stories by the light on my iPhone, and make shadow puppets on the wall (mostly bunnies and dinosaurs RAWR). Eventually we settle down into ONE last drink, and some cudly kisses and we're asleep. If I don't move her shortly thereafter, her daddy moves her when he comes to bed. She usually returns some time in the 5 am hour. Toddles back to bed, taps me on the arm and says "mommysnuggle" which is all one word if you're doing it right.

Usually, like today, Miles shows up about 6 or 7am. He rests a hand on my arm if the girl is in his spot. I will move her to her toddler bed and then it's snuggling with Miles and Mommy. Usually though, unless it's VERY early, Miles is UP for the day. He indulges me in some cuddling and kisses, and then as I drift back to sleep he pulls a book out of nowhere and sits and reads. Sometimes he brings two or three books and piles them on me. I don't even care.

Charlie is the X Factor. Some mornings, he beats Miles to the snuggle spot. However Charlie can rarely be quiet, so he giggles and carries on until mom gets up. Or he comes in, once Miles is in the snuggling spot, and asks for drinnks of water, and hops around the room making various noises.Today I decided at 7:30 am that I wasn't getting more sleep and that coffee and writing were calling, so here I am. When I got up, Charlie spent a full 10 minutes on my lap hugging and cuddling like a little tiny boy. Have I mentioned that he is not a little tiny boy? He's giant.


It is my sweet Lou that gets the shortest stick in terms of cuddles these days. He admittedly spent the most number of years tucked under my right arm but most nights, I make him go to his own bed. Last night he wanted so badly to sleep with me and Julia. I made him a deal that he can sleep with us tomorrow and that appeased him. But I know as well as anyone else that he's at the age that he really doesn't need to be sleeping with me.

So I transitioned it as a treat, like a sleepover, fun and cuddles once in a while and most of the time he sleeps in his own bed.

People will say things like "You'll never get them out of your bed." Really? They gonna go off to college and come home to sleep in my bed every night?

I won't ever get these days of childhood back, nor will my children. I will never regret one night of elbows in my back or someones little head laying on mine like it's a pillow. When I die, if they only thing anyone ever has to say about me is that I gave my children years worth of cuddles, then I'm ok with that.

I will never apologize for our snuggletime roulette. It's one of the best things ever.

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Just 30 More Minutes

At 6:25 AM I realized that Charlie had a fever,so no school today. I gave him Tylenol, called transportation so the bus didn't come and honk honk honk, and rolled back upstairs and climbed into bed.
I had, at that moment, 30 minutes to relax before I had to get up.

T Minus 29 Minutes: I am drifting off, and a child coughs. I roll over.

T Minus 27 Minutes: I hear little feet paddling on the carpet - look up in time to see a blonde head dive into her bed. "Go to sleep." I whisper.

T Minus 24 Minutes: Someone else coughs.

T Minus 20 Minutes: The husband throws a leg over me and pins my leg weirdly, I wiggle free and scooch to snuggle more comfortably. He starts to snore. In my ear.

T Minus 17 Minutes: Feet. On the carpet. Running up and down the hall. "GO TO SLEEP" I say, less whispery this time.

T Minus 15 Minues: The girl child, "MY SOCKS WHERE ARE MY SOCKS?" I realize she didn't put her magical sock on at bed time, so I get up, get them out of the drawer and put them on her, and tuck her back into bed. I don't know what magic powers they HAVE but I know she has to have them EVERY night.


I lay back down. I consider just hitting the shower at this point. But I close my eyes instead.

T- Minus 7 Minutes: Charlie comes in. "I have a booger." Me, "You have a booger?" Him "I want a diaper."
Ok then. I change him, he's wet through, I change his pajamas and have him lay down with me.

T Minus 5 Minutes: I assume I went to sleep. Clock said 6:55 and then it was BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP and I had to get up.

That was a super restful extra 30.

Note to self - just get up next time.
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Just 30 More Minutes

At 6:25 AM I realized that Charlie had a fever,so no school today. I gave him Tylenol, called transportation so the bus didn't come and honk honk honk, and rolled back upstairs and climbed into bed.
I had, at that moment, 30 minutes to relax before I had to get up.

T Minus 29 Minutes: I am drifting off, and a child coughs. I roll over.

T Minus 27 Minutes: I hear little feet paddling on the carpet - look up in time to see a blonde head dive into her bed. "Go to sleep." I whisper.

T Minus 24 Minutes: Someone else coughs.

T Minus 20 Minutes: The husband throws a leg over me and pins my leg weirdly, I wiggle free and scooch to snuggle more comfortably. He starts to snore. In my ear.

T Minus 17 Minutes: Feet. On the carpet. Running up and down the hall. "GO TO SLEEP" I say, less whispery this time.

T Minus 15 Minues: The girl child, "MY SOCKS WHERE ARE MY SOCKS?" I realize she didn't put her magical sock on at bed time, so I get up, get them out of the drawer and put them on her, and tuck her back into bed. I don't know what magic powers they HAVE but I know she has to have them EVERY night.


I lay back down. I consider just hitting the shower at this point. But I close my eyes instead.

T- Minus 7 Minutes: Charlie comes in. "I have a booger." Me, "You have a booger?" Him "I want a diaper."
Ok then. I change him, he's wet through, I change his pajamas and have him lay down with me.

T Minus 5 Minutes: I assume I went to sleep. Clock said 6:55 and then it was BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP and I had to get up.

That was a super restful extra 30.

Note to self - just get up next time.
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E Is For Earplugs

One of the things you might not know about autistic children is that, they aren't necessarily quiet. It's a common misconception. People assume "they don't talk therefore they are quiet". Well no.
See,first of all, just because they aren't talking TO you doesn't meant they don't TALK. I have one who has serious echolalia. That means like a parrot he'll repeat the same things over and over and over.

For HOURS.

It's pretty good times.

The other boy, will moan, or scream, or kind of say random things. They both hit things and knock things and bang things. So, no, they aren't QUIET. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

It's worse for me at night. If they won't sleep, and sometimes they won't, then I can't sleep. I have to have QUIET. I have downloaded a wave machine app onto the iPhone but even that won't count through the singing of the ABCs or whatever the song is this week. Over, and over, and over and over into the wee hours of the morning.

It's been a long 8 years of having two little boys that have no regard for my need for sleep, nor anyone else's.

Then the husband had this idea.

Earplugs.

After a night of me nearly being crazy and in tears due to sleep deprivation one too many times, he came home the next day with earplugs and insisted I try them. I am usually a very "NO I WILL MAKE MY OWN DECISIONS" sort of princess but really, his logic was sound.

Can I say how brilliant earplugs are? Last night, I opened my eyes in the middle of the night and saw an 8 year old running around my room - followed by my husband who ushered him in to the bathroom silently, and I closed my eyes & went back to sleep. Soundly, like the dead my brain wasn't activated or bothered by noise, and sleep wrapped itself around me. A bit later they were back, and again I fluttered my eyes open with my mommy radar - saw all was well and my brain shut back down into blissful quiet sleep.

Sleep, we are friends again.

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E Is For Earplugs

One of the things you might not know about autistic children is that, they aren't necessarily quiet. It's a common misconception. People assume "they don't talk therefore they are quiet". Well no.
See,first of all, just because they aren't talking TO you doesn't meant they don't TALK. I have one who has serious echolalia. That means like a parrot he'll repeat the same things over and over and over.

For HOURS.

It's pretty good times.

The other boy, will moan, or scream, or kind of say random things. They both hit things and knock things and bang things. So, no, they aren't QUIET. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

It's worse for me at night. If they won't sleep, and sometimes they won't, then I can't sleep. I have to have QUIET. I have downloaded a wave machine app onto the iPhone but even that won't count through the singing of the ABCs or whatever the song is this week. Over, and over, and over and over into the wee hours of the morning.

It's been a long 8 years of having two little boys that have no regard for my need for sleep, nor anyone else's.

Then the husband had this idea.

Earplugs.

After a night of me nearly being crazy and in tears due to sleep deprivation one too many times, he came home the next day with earplugs and insisted I try them. I am usually a very "NO I WILL MAKE MY OWN DECISIONS" sort of princess but really, his logic was sound.

Can I say how brilliant earplugs are? Last night, I opened my eyes in the middle of the night and saw an 8 year old running around my room - followed by my husband who ushered him in to the bathroom silently, and I closed my eyes & went back to sleep. Soundly, like the dead my brain wasn't activated or bothered by noise, and sleep wrapped itself around me. A bit later they were back, and again I fluttered my eyes open with my mommy radar - saw all was well and my brain shut back down into blissful quiet sleep.

Sleep, we are friends again.

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The Pregnant Nightmares

They say that it's really normal to have crazy, horrible, visceral nightmares when you are pregnant.
I find that to be disturbingly true.
Some people apparently have dreams of killing, or being killed or axe murderers and stuff like that - of doing things that are unthinkable. They awake terrified that these might be things they will do, when in fact their hormones are just running wild during their REM sleep.
I also dream crazy, horrible nightmares - more and more lately.
Mine are always what I consider the Sophie's Choice/Kobayashi Maru variety. I'm always presented with the unwinnable situation - which could result in death for my children - and in it I spend my nightmare working out HOW I would thwart that.

How I would cheat, and beat the machine.

How will I escape a car sinking in water, with now 4 children? What is my plan? Fire? Hiding from a madman - how will I keep them quiet?

I wake up dripping with sweat - and sometimes go look in their room so that I can just hear them sleep for a few minutes.

I always win, in my dreams, but it doesn't make the terror any less.

I can swim onto the top of my car somehow, and get them all onto the roof with me - despite any obstacles I can do it. I am stronger than I actually am, I am faster than I actually am -

I am unwilling to accept the alternative.........and therefore........I win.

But as my heart pounds in my chest and I feel my next family member squirm in my tummy........I wish these nightmares would stop.

Mommy will keep you safe. Now stop.

The Pregnant Nightmares

They say that it's really normal to have crazy, horrible, visceral nightmares when you are pregnant.
I find that to be disturbingly true.
Some people apparently have dreams of killing, or being killed or axe murderers and stuff like that - of doing things that are unthinkable. They awake terrified that these might be things they will do, when in fact their hormones are just running wild during their REM sleep.
I also dream crazy, horrible nightmares - more and more lately.
Mine are always what I consider the Sophie's Choice/Kobayashi Maru variety. I'm always presented with the unwinnable situation - which could result in death for my children - and in it I spend my nightmare working out HOW I would thwart that.

How I would cheat, and beat the machine.

How will I escape a car sinking in water, with now 4 children? What is my plan? Fire? Hiding from a madman - how will I keep them quiet?

I wake up dripping with sweat - and sometimes go look in their room so that I can just hear them sleep for a few minutes.

I always win, in my dreams, but it doesn't make the terror any less.

I can swim onto the top of my car somehow, and get them all onto the roof with me - despite any obstacles I can do it. I am stronger than I actually am, I am faster than I actually am -

I am unwilling to accept the alternative.........and therefore........I win.

But as my heart pounds in my chest and I feel my next family member squirm in my tummy........I wish these nightmares would stop.

Mommy will keep you safe. Now stop.