Category Archives: sleeplessness

The Art of Pain…

Evening came and went and whilst my love was sleeping the creativity I sought all day long surfaced in a rush. Sleep became impossible and I gave up trying when evening turned to night. In the quiet darkness of my house I crept to my desk and turned sleepless discomfort into shiny things. I found comfort in the act of shaping metal and pairing stone.


The work is quiet and takes little physical energy, though it can often leave me exhausted if I do too much. I find sleep again after a few pieces are finished, my former restlessness replaced with satisfaction.

Something a little stronger?

I don’t think coffee is going to get me through the day. I need something a little stronger, like tequila, with a lime, and large grain kosher salt, or maybe Speed.

Otter was awake playing “crawl thru diner” most of the morning. (By morning I mean the hours after midnight.) Now, of course, he is wired for sound, taking things apart, running through the house, sucking on butcher knives and sticking his fingers into light sockets.

Me? I am barely conscious as I drink my first cup of coffee in what promises to be a very, very long day.

Why can’t he be, oh I don’t know, TIRED on the days when neither of us get any sleep? It’s not as though I was out all night clubbing while he slept away in dream land. No, I was in bed, cursing the day I decided to pop a tit in his hungry hungry hippo mouth! I was desperately trying to sleep while he twisted my skin between his fingers, kicked me in the stomach, groin, and thighs, and nursed all night long.

Is he tired? No! Otter wants to pull all the magnets off my office filing cabinet, so he can suck the magnetized metal bits out of the large plastic covers and choke on them before he determinedly eats the papers they were pinning to the cabinet. He wants to dig through my drawers and spread printer paper all over the floor! He wants to open the front door and wander out into the street!

Otter wants to climb the stairs, up and down, up and down, holding tightly to my fingers with his chubby baby hands. On a quasi rested well adjusted day I would console myself with thoughts like “at least I am getting my exercise today” or “Who needs a stair stepper when you have a one year old?”, but today the only thought in my mind seems to be “are you frackin’ kidding me?! I want to lie down and watch ER reruns until I drool!”

But no, he is not tired today. His new motto is “sleep is for the weak”. He is an unstoppable force of pint sized determination.

I, however, am the thick dull sludge left in the bottom of the coffee pot when the burner has been on all night.

He fell asleep not too long ago, snuggled warm with me on the couch. I tried to sleep, lay there for an hour listening to the traffic, the birds, the neighbor’s loud oompa loompa polka music. No sleep. None. Finally got up before going stark raving mad.

No wicked for the rest…

All right, that’s it!! If I am not going to get any rest any way, I wanna be wicked!

What’s wicked about being too sleepy to don makeup and cute shoes? How is spending the day trapped in the house with a cooing baby in my jammies wicked?

There is nothing remotely wicked about my life. Nothing even the tiniest bit racy!! (Well, okay, the quiche I made the other day with heavy whipping cream might have been a bit wicked.)

But regardless of the relative innocence of my days, there is no rest for me. My commanding officer is up at all hours, all nights, trying to hit a new marathon nursing record or standing at our headboard kicking me in the face. Sometimes he kicks his dad too, which makes me feel better.

Sooooo sleepy.

Wasn’t life a bit sexier when my sleep loss was due to being up until 3 a.m. dancing at a popular nightclub or hitting the party circuit? I was content with sleeplessness in my early twenties. Even in law school, when it was mostly due to hitting the books all night long, my sleepiness had an edge to it, a purpose. Now the only thing with an edge to it is my tone of voice when anyone asks me to do something for them.

Ugh… there is not enough coffee in the world.