I sleep like a boulder, and Fella sleeps like a feather. Child gets nose bleeds in the winter, and every year I talk myself into believing that this’ll be the year we’ll make it through without the humidifier.
I am always wrong.
But at 3 this morning, when Child had a nosebleed, she wandered into our room, and poked me for at least 45 seconds before getting bored or exasperated and giving up, laying down on the floor next to our bed–god bless her–and waiting. For somebody to acknowledge her nose bleed.
I didn’t put that together until dinner, when Fella gave me the run down of our interrupted sleep.
What I remember hearing is, “Child, why are you in our room?” This from Fella, who asked in his rarely disoriented by sleep voice.
“I wanted to tell mommy I have a nosebleed.”
I had an argument with myself in my not-sleeping-sleep brain about whether she said she wanted to tell me about her nosebleed or that she loves me. She is always traveling from one end of the house to the other to tell me she loves me. It is her procrastination/avoidance tactic.
Still, I could not rouse myself from my sleep coma. In my brain, I knew what to do. But my body would not cooperate. I sometimes also have this problem when I need to pee in the night. I estimate that it takes me an hour to make my body move with my brain’s commands.
At one point, Child was in the bed with me. I did eventually get up, but I don’t remember if I did anything for my kid. Fella asked me if I had my phone. It was confusing and surreal.
But today–even though the amazing traffic to the Blue Lit blog, this blog, and my email inbox has kept pace with yesterday–I have had difficulty maintaining my energy and focus.
I should have proofread at least 100 pages today. I did 40.
I was as distractable as a mosquito.
I was productive, but on a rapid succession of small projects, not with the focus and intensity with which I am happier.
But I met a new writer.
And I made this happen.
And I read stuff my friends wrote.
And stuff my fellow community volunteers wrote for the Williamsport Guardian which I am assistant editing in case our regular editor has to run away to her snow-covered hill and be a ski matriarch.
And I did one of my Zumba DVDs.
Now, as the day is nearly over, and I realized with panic that I’ve forgotten the awesome post idea I had early today, I’m jabbering on about being a crappy mom and a sidetracked social entrepreneur.
But maybe you will feel heartened by my disorientation, simpatico with a fellow over-extended, self-employed parent, or just an ambitious, writerly person.
Thanks everybody, for following, for visiting, and for your overwhelmingly positive response to and support of the Blue Lit project, this blog, and the literary community.
And oh yeah. Sex in the title? That was bait. Worked, didn’t it?