Thanks to Mrs. Chicken for visiting yesterday. You are an incredibly talented writer and a kind person. I loved spending time with you.
I’ll be visiting your site often for a chance to read something special.
I think I may have mentioned in passing that there have been some sleep issues here. Passing, ha! I know I’ve gone on ad nauseum, but what’s a girl to do? It’s a huge issue. Things are compounded lately with Sean working until midnight at least 3 nights a week, Avery waking three times between 11 and 4 and me not being able to fall asleep. I can be tired, tired, oh so tired I think my eyes might just start to bleed and still I cannot find sleep. Most nights Sean takes pity and tries to soothe me to sleep with a back rub.
Can I tell you something about the Sean back rubs? They can be great. They can last for 30 minutes and involve wonderful lotions he’s bought for me, significantly nicer than the drug store clearance rack slop I buy myself. They start with a whispered direction for me to take a breath and close my eyes. Then another breath. Breath. Shh. And then all is quiet. There is a peace, a calm that is so thick it wraps itself around me like a woolen blanket. The light of the moon through the window bathes everything in an ethereal light. It is as if I am drifting away like drop of glistening dew upon a leaf in a river’s current. And then…
The spell is broken. I am no glistening drop of dew, the light shining on the bed is harsh and yelllow, the silence in the room more of a mocking whisper of unwanted solitude. He is sleeping, and I am, once again, awake. Alone. The clock beams 1:30. My heart starts to race as I realize soon Avery will wake. I must sleep. Sleep. Damnit, Amanda, sleep. But I can’t. It goes on each night.
Sleep, it seems to be a bit like the bully in the school yard these days. Yesterday though, the bully made me laugh. Cause for all their cruelty and indifference, bullies do some spectacularly funny shit. To wit: Nap time.