My brother Luke once told me that he thinks when I’m 80 years old, I’ll probably sleep all day and night. He said he’s never seen anyone who can sleep as much as I can.
Odd, coming from the guy who takes every chance he can get to lie on the couch and “rest his eyes”…. but anyways….
Well, I beg to differ. Sure, there have been many occasions on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon that I can be found horizontal, totally out of commission. But those are typically days when I’ve been out the night before, and perhaps had one or two drinks beyond my limit. (And I’m happy to report that as I’ve grown older and wiser, those days are becoming fewer & father in-between. Phewf.)
On an average day, if I have a good solid night’s sleep behind me, I’m good to go. Fully charged. I don’t even feel the need to have a nap.
However, as I get older - (and by no means do I think I’m OLD at age 27!! (or 29. whatever.)) – I have started to notice just how much I appreciate sleep. More often than not on a Friday or Saturday night, when I used to be gearing up for a party or heading to the bar, I’m now far more enticed by cozy pj’s, blankets, snacks, couch, and movies. And of course, early to bed. That feeling of being so tired the next day just doesn’t do it for me anymore.
Actually, I dread that feeling.
The fact that I can’t handle a late night and less than 8 hours of sleep was never so evident to me as it was yesterday.
Don’t get me wrong. Dallas Smith and Chad Brownlee were totally worth it. Absolutely, completely, worth it. I would do it again in a heartbeat. You only live once, right? Avoiding late-night-fun-things because of a fear of being zonked the next day is ridiculous, especially for a single gal like me.
But maybe… just maybe I’d have the foresight to book the next day off work next time…
I was absolutely useless yesterday. I felt like I was in a haze… Half-zombie-like. Not even coffee could kick me out of my dopey-ness. I was cranky. I was achey. Honestly? I felt hungover. And I know there’s no way my three Texas Teas - spread over the course of the evening, and combined with a huge dinner, and didn’t even give me a buzz – could have been the cause.
It was the fact that I didn’t get to bed at 10:30-ish, as per usual. I crawled under the covers around 1 AM, and was up for work at 6:30 AM. The fact that I didn’t log my required hours of sleep actually made me feel like I’d gone on a bender the night before. (And left me wondering why I just didn’t go ahead and do so, if that’s how I was going to feel anyways.)
So is this what getting older is all about?? If it is… that totally sucks donkey balls, my friends.
I guess Luke’s not entirely wrong. I do love to sleep. I love my bed, I love my pillow, I love my couch, I love my quilt, I love being cozy and comfy, and I looooove sleep.
And maybe by the time I’m 80, I will be sleeping all the damned time, who knows.
But in the meantime, I do still want those someday-babies. And as my friends and family who have littles like to remind me, once the someday-babies come, I can kiss my sleepytimes good-bye.
I just don’t know how people do it. They tell me you get used to it; your body will adjust. I’m not confident mine will. It is my biggest fear about having someday-babies. As I’ve mentioned before, I need the magical kind of babies that sleep 12 hours a night.
Because I can’t have them stealing my sleep. I apparently need it to keep me sane and functional.
Dallas Smith and Chad Brownlee have made that very clear to me.