Watching The Minutes

I should be sleeping by now. The minutes on the clock tell me that it's past midnight. Where did my rock star sleeping skills go? I used to nap every weekend and get nine hours of sleep each night.

No problem.

I know exactly when I had my first real bout of insomnia. It was two days after D-Day. I stayed up for almost three days with only a few hours of sleep before my body finally gave in.

Is it the nightmares, or better yet, the fear of nightmares that keeps my eyes open? Sometimes. I had nightmares before D-Day. It's always been a thing for me. But now they are more vivid. More jarring.

Is it fear or anxiety? Maybe. I still have fears and anxiety, but I can't remember a time in my adult life when I have felt as much peace as I do lately.

Is it trauma residue that needs to be explored? Possibly. I think that for me, there will always be healing and growing work to do.

Medication helps sometimes. I've tried most sleeping concoctions out there. I don't drink caffeine in the evening, I have a comfortably cool bedroom, I have a fan to drown out noise, I listen to relaxing music, take a bubble bath, drink hot (decaffienated) tea. I thank God for the gift of serenity and pray that God will show me what it is that I need to discover through this particular challenge. I ask for the gift of nightmare-free sleep.

And then I lie down in bed and watch the minutes.

From The Mouth Of My Babe

My husband and I are both working hard to create a healthy partnership and a safe and loving environment for our son. I'm so grateful to be in this place, despite all of the heartache and setbacks.  But like most couples, we sometimes fight the same battles over and over again without resolution. The division of household chores is one of them.

I recently assigned my son regular chores with a very small allowance to teach him about family responsibility and help him understand how money works. So when I overheard the following conversation today, I had to giggle.

Son: Daddy, what are your family chores?
Husband: Ummm, I sometimes do the laundry.
Son: But why don't you do more chores like me and mommy?
Husband: (looking over his shoulder towards me) Busted.