The notion of sleep

Ah, sleep. Who knew you'd be so elusive? After incubating a child, and then birthing said child, and then waking up every two-to-three hours to feed the aforementioned child, I naively thought that my body would be thoroughly apt to fall asleep easier and earlier once her sleep patterns became established.

I guess it wasn't meant to be.

There was that one time, back when I was pre-maritally dating my husband, where he had somewhere to be where I didn't also have to be. Which meant my head hit the pillow at nine p.m. sharp. And my eyes closed and my REM cycle began and all was right with the world. You know, the one time that actually happened to me? 

I think my main issue is genetics. It's a God-given Lalli family trait to suffer from insomnia, and my hairy legs, et al. will attest that I'm pretty much all Lalli. So hooray for random maladies such as poor sleeping habits and poor circulation in my hands and feet. And maybe also my temper? Is that stretching it a bit too far? 

Sleep-aids are out... mainly because of that unfortunate, Ambien-induced hallucinogenic experience that occurred at Heathrow Airport back in '06. Not my finest moment. But then again, I don't really remember it. Except that do I remember really, REALLY wanting a blueberry muffin from Starbucks. Also, I couldn't figure out how to email my parents because the coin slot to the computer machine kept moving. Um, yeah.

So here I sit, at the computer, knowing full well that tomorrow I'm going to feel this. And that there's no  guarantee that once I do get into bed that these guys won't keep me up anyway. Shrug.