Sunday, 23 November 2014

Sleep Sleep, my Kingdom for some Sleep.



I wonder if pushing out a little person leaves a body permanently incapable of sleeping through the night.

Most mothers I know will tell you that they would gladly lose a couple of teeth for a full week's sleep.

Never having been a 'good sleeper' I find at the moment that there is some cause for celebration if I manage to be comatose for even 3 hours in a stretch.

How I long for those teenage days when rising after lunch was possible and then a little nanna nap at 'hometime' something to look forward to.

The slightest noise has long set me wide eyed and then that about does it for rest.

I know a bloke who is early to bed and up in the dark to walk or work and this certainly seems to work for him. It doesn't seem to matter what time I am horizontal, 3 hours is the max, and I am getting mightily sick and tired of it.

Last night was 10pm flat out, then 1am up to pee and look at the park and listen to the noise and then try try try again. 4am wide awake and thought I'd try ear plugs and an eye mask, so along with my tooth guard and gammy leg, you can just imagine how attractive that might have been. It was curious to listen to my own heart beat echoing in my ears, but that doesn't count as sleep. 6am up for more pain meds for the leg that seems to never want to bend properly and then finally up and at 'em at 7 cos I couldn't stand it any longer.

All this even after having taken the sleeping drug that old Angus prescribed when I went in for my grease and oil check-up on Friday. This tiny little pill is meant to knock you out for 8 hours. Angus said it might be good to re-boot my sleeping pattern, so I thought I'd give it a go, but as I am only getting 3 of the 8 hours the pill is designed for, I can only imagine that the other 5 hours are manifesting themselves into 'watch out for the big bitch cos she's having a cranky'.

There are eye masks that are infused with lavender which while they sound old lady, might be worth a shot, or maybe if I down generous dollops of vodka that could set me off. The idea of warm milk leaves me searching for a bucket, and counting sheep, counting anything, well I just don't do the maths anymore.

If you have some tried and tested sleep formulas, I'd be pleased to hear 'em. Desperate hardly begins to describe.