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SLEEPLESS TALES (Sorry ‘Bout It Brain)

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I read an article right before bed last night that told me if you aren’t getting adequate sleep it can really mess up your brain.  Well, great.  What parent gets adequate sleep?  It went on to say that “adequate sleep” doesn’t mean little bursts over a longer period of time which is what most of us are hanging our hat on.  It then suggested a very simple meditation to get to sleep and stay there: focus on your rib cage moving in and out and if a thought comes (which mine do. by the truckload. every. freaking. second) you are supposed to recognize it as a thought and just send it on it’s way.  I can try that, I thought to myself.  So I closed my eyes, focused on my rib cage moving in and out and sent 9 million thoughts on their way.  And you know what? I fell asleep! And then I woke up because I have an underdeveloped bladder that lost all muscle tone after pushing out two kids.

But I try it again, rib cage in and rib cage out, sending thoughts on their way….and I fall back asleep.  Until my 2 year old son cried out in pain which sent me stumbling into his room only to find him sound asleep teething and dreaming (man, he must meditate.)

So I come back to bed and try it again – in and out, send thoughts on their way…and fall back asleep.  Until I feel a 4 year old’s hot breath in my face: “Mommy there’s a ghost in my room.”  She’s crawling on top of me while I murmur something about ghosts not being proven but lack of sleep being bad for the brain sure is.  After confirming ghosts aren’t real but Santa is she falls asleep almost immediately (man, she must meditate.)

So I’m trying again – breathing in and out – sending thoughts of ghosts riding on Santa’s back away..and fall asleep.  Until I hear a faint whimper down the hall “Mamma, Mamma” and I  just can’t ignore it.  I go to get him and he falls asleep on my shoulder while the clock is annoyingly and silently shouting BUAHAH IT’S 5:35AM.

I try to focus on my rib cage and breathe in and out again for what seems like forever until I can’t anymore because now I have a 4 year old’s foot on my sternum and a 2 year old’s finger up my nose.

“MOOOOOOM I’M HUNGRYYYY”

“YA. MAMA.HUNGEE.”

It’s 6:12am and I want to take that fucking article and use it as toilet paper.

I tried, brain.  I really, really tried.

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-MIM-

 

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