Have you heard of this?
When you are ready to fall asleep, just as your mind and body are both ready for shut down, you slide into bed and BOOM – restless legs.
Fidget. Fudget. Fadget.
It seems totally comical. Just stop moving them for Pete’s sake.
After the last few weeks of ‘Restless Manda’ syndrome I am hereby pledging to cease and desist from all scoffing, harrumphing, and general mocking of the sufferers of Restless Leg Syndrome.
If you don’t believe me, ask my husband.
“Good night,” he whispers, so as not to wake the baby.
“G’night,” I whisper, so as not to excite my mind with multiple syllables.
A gentle shaft of moonlight splashes against the far wall of our room, the air conditioner steadily vrooms as it cools the room, Briar is still and Sean’s breathing has evened out.
“Sean?” I say hopefully.
“Yes, man,” he replies.
“Are you sleepy?”
Stretch. Squeeze, release, breathe, squeeze, release, breathe.
“Stupid, stupid, useless relaxation techniques!” I think loudly.
More silence. More Briar being still, more Sean breathing evenly, more dog snoring.
At this point Sean can feel my frustration as the bedroom is thick with it.
“Want me to massage your hands?” he says like some sort of angel come down to soothe me.
“Of course. Please and thank you.”
As Sean’s fingers squeeze my palms and knead each finger I start to relax. The random thoughts whizzing through my head start to slow down, the laps they have been frenetically running through my head flow to slow, meandering circles. My body is sinking into the mattress and I feel like I might just fall asleep. I am so grateful for the release. Sean’s hands slow down, the kneading morphs into more of a rub, the pressure falls to a light touch, his chest rises and as he starts to drift off KAPOW.
I’m up. The release done released itself and I am back on the track.
What color should I paint the hallway? What should I wear tomorrow? Do we have coffee? Did I put the wash in the dryer? Will Paul finally call us back? Will Mark get through to Kathleen? Did Sean really set the alarm?
Nibbling the inside of my mouth. Hooking and unhooking my foot from the edge of the sheet.
“Would you just be awake with me until I fall asleep?”
“Sure, honey,” he says as he turns and wraps an arm around me.
Quiet, rhythmic breathing. He’s tracing his hand on my arm.
Phew. I’m starting to ease up. I can imagine falling asleep. Oh yeah, this is good. Let me just get my head just right, such a good pillow. I love these pillow cases. Hmm, Briar is so sweet. Dreams of playing on the swings with her, splashing in the sprinkler, pointing out –
He’s asleep again and it’s as if I cannot be asleep at the same time. Some twisted law of equals that requires Amanda to be awake if Sean is asleep. It is as maddening as the scenario between Rutger Hauer and Michelle Pfeieffer in that Night Hawk movie. For the love of god just let them be together. Let me sleep while Sean sleeps. Better yet, just let me fall asleep before him because like Briar sleep finds him so easily!
Somehow I do. Did. Will.
There’s your nothing blog, honey.