While we wait to get an offer on the house I have started the process of purging clothes that don’t fit and knick knacks I don’t need. I’ve been mentally prepping to spend weeks at a time away from my husband and being the sole care provider for my kids 24/7 for six months, miles and miles away from anyone we know. My heart tells me we will have a blast, staying up late, enjoying four seasons and making memories all while securing a safer, less stressful future for my son. My head keeps me up at night.
I’ve always been a night owl but throughout the years I have been plagued, on and off, with insomnia. It began in my teenage years and lessoned into adulthood and then recently came back as my son’s allergy flared. In addition to laying awake contemplating this little guy’s future, I started worrying that I wasn’t worrying enough about my daughter. She is our wild one. I could be so incredibly attentive to my son’s health concerns that I don’t watch her jump headlong off a staircase! If you know her, you realize that not only is this probable, but she would probably also be in heels. Did I mention she is three years old?
Amidst these worries, I also choose bedtime as the time I review my list of motherly atrocities for the day. Something about kissing their sweet cheeks goodnight and marveling at their beauty and innocence rushes forth this sea of guilt about my lack of patience, tone and volume of my voice and those fleeting wistful remembrances of what it was like to live in a quiet apartment all alone and how nice it was. As I try to sleep, I cry at how horrible of a mother I was that day and vow to do better tomorrow. I wonder if they will need therapy. I wonder at how inattentive I must be that my son needs both speech and occupational therapy at school. School? Are we at the best school? The little one has two more years until school. Can I survive that long? Did I really just think that? Oh my gosh, my BABY is going to school in two short years!
I do this for about 5 hours or until my brain explodes. 30 minutes later, someone crawls in bed with me and I pretend to be comatose while my husband gets up with them. Oh no! I make my husband get up with the kids? I am a terrible wife! I should clean more and do his laundry….
No more sleep for this mama.
Am I the only one who does this?