In other words.
October 25, 2013 § 1 Comment
Because I’m still ensconced in the same space,
mental and physical, as last week’s post (plus a minor headcold),
I’ll leave it to Catherine Newman today.
“It’s so strange, the way you become a parent on some kind of cellular level.
This is such a profound shift from that first portion of your life when you live for yourself, more or less. During those first couple dozen years, you go to bed at night and you sink righteously into sleep. You don’t feel greedy about it, or even especially lucky: you just wiggle around into your most comfortable position, like a dog, and pull sleep into yourself as if it properly belongs to you. And it does.
Still, nothing can prepare you for the Sleep of the Parents. If sleep is an ocean, then I used to sleep on the floor of it, a sunken thing among the catfish, bubbles blooping from my dreaming mouth towards the surface.
Now I sleep in a little rowboat. In a thunderstorm, during a war, with cannons going off all night long. And also sharks.”
~Waiting for Birdy by Catherine Newman
An impromptu grab from the library, this book has had me laughing out loud and reading excerpts aloud to Kenny. And she’s SPOT. ON. I don’t think I’ll ever sleep the same again, but apparently that’s normal. She goes on to talk about how even now, whenever she goes to stay with her family, her father cannot help but sleep the Sleep of Parents, as if any minute one of his grown children will cry out from a nightmare or come weeping with a tummy ache. He has his glasses on in a flash if awakened, alarmed, for any reason, having only been hovering on the edge of dreamland anyway.
I believe it. [I think my dad still sleeps this way, glasses at the ready and everything.]
Happy Friday, friends. Especially sleeping in tomorrow. I remember that being pretty awesome. 😉