Sleep: The Unattainable Dream

I’ve been gambling with sleep for awhile now. I hadn’t realized how much I intentionally did so, until I gave birth to another child. At that point, sleep became a gift I no longer controlled.

bed cute dog female
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And I missed it.

Desperately.

Oh, my missing it didn’t happen right away. First, I snapped at everyone. Then, I cried. I cried a lot. Next, I snapped and cried. Everyone and everything was wrong wrong wrong. Couldn’t they see how much the mess and my feelings were their fault??

So, I made sleep a priority. I snuck in naps wherever I could, even at the expense of cleaning. To help block out the light and sound of no one else sleeping, I set a pillow over my head. I set my phone’s timer for 45 minutes so I wouldn’t nap too long -then I’d often sleep another hour after it went off.

girl in white sweater lying on couch
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Slowly, slowly, the world wasn’t so horribly awful.

Actually; the world brightened up right away. It stayed bright once the newborn baby slept better and I could get sleep more consistently.

Hormones also play a HUGE role, of course. I need to remind myself of that as well. Sleep alone, however, was and is helpful enough that I highly recommend it.

If you are in The Newborn Phase, The Teething Phase, or even The Have Children Phase; don’t get caught in the trap of insomnia like me. Step back and take inventory of how many trips to deep REM you’re taking. There’s only so many times you can neglect your health, so many cups of coffee you can drink.

Trust me. Zzzzzzzz

selective focus photo of woman in blue tank top and shorts lying on a hammock
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©2020 Chelsea Owens

*As a parting note, there are way too many stock photos of women ‘sleeping’ in full makeup. That is gross, and no one actually does that.

What the Frick?

I’m not perfect. Hear that, Brain?! I admitted it!

Today’s episode of “I’m Not Perfect” deals specifically with my penchant to curse under extreme duress, or under not-giving-a-fudge-covered cookie.

My children are not ever, ever, ever, ever allowed to curse. Hence, a recent development: my son using an odd alternative, frick.

“What the frick?!”

“I’m frickin’ coming!”

And, yesterday:

“Frick you!”

Which is the point at which I said the substitution was not a good one.

We’ve been fortunate that none of the children has pushed the line with bad words …yet. Even my teenager, who admitted the school halls were alive with the sound of swearing, maturely resists Sailor Speak.

I know it’s partly because of the standard we set. It’s also because we’ve gone Ralphie of “A Christmas Story” with potty words on occasion. It’s also also because we consistently, patiently, and logically explain our reasoning behind language restrictions.

And so, till high school, I wish us all luck in teaching our children clean language. I also wish you a frickin’ good day.

upset woman listening to therapist
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©2020 Chelsea Owens

Mother of Four

There once was a mother of four
Who found that they wouldn’t do chores.
They’d gripe and they’d whine,
And they’d waste all her time.
Oh, how those chores she abhorred!

photograph of happy children
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©2020 Chelsea Owens