I'm So Tired...

Lately, I have really started to wonder what is wrong with me. There was a time when I could stay up for hours, then rebound and be at it again early the next morning and feel refreshed. I could sit down on the couch and read a book or watch a television show during the day and not fall asleep. In fact, if there was a good movie coming out, and there was a midnight showing available, I would call my brothers and cousins and hook up with them for dinner and the movie, then consider going with them to an early morning breakfast.

Times have changed!

Now, when I am no longer actively engaged in something, I sit down on a comfortable sofa, and I will be unconscious in a matter of seconds. Reading books and watching movies can no longer hold my interest. As you have read from previous posts, a book is the best sleeping pill for me. Once I crack open a book, 40 seconds later, the book is covered in drool.

I have recognized that the result of my tiredness comes from my cat and my children:

I have to go through a certain ritual with the cat every night; otherwise, I am guaranteed to have my sleep interrupted.

To begin with, I have to make sure I find the cat and have him locked downstairs. If I fail to do this, he will come to the hallway outside my bedroom at 4 AM and knock on my door until I open it. When I open the door, he immediately runs over to the door that leads to the backyard and waits there until I open it and let him out.

I cannot let the cat out earlier in the evening, because then he gets cold and will yowl and knock at the backdoor until I let him in. This also happens around 4 AM.

On some occasions, someone in the family may have let out the cat earlier in the day. This requires me to go out and find the cat and chase him back into the house before I retire for the evening. I'm sure the neighbors have seen Crazy Man Moser, in his underwear, running aimlessly all over the yard trying to catch the cat. Every once in awhile, if I see a car coming down the road, I do a couple of cartwheels to try and convince my neighbors I am not crazy.

If I was fortunate enough to remember to take care of the cat, I get my hopes up and think, "Alas, I am going to sleep all through the night."

The moment I settle down for the night, and I find a comfortable position to sleep in, I slowly start to drift away when Matthew wakes up. He generally wants to feed, so I'll either get him a bottle, or I will bring him back to bed so Cora can feed him. Either way, I don't go back to sleep until I am able to put him back into his bed...then hope he is settled in for the night.

When I return to bed, snuggle next to my honey, and once again find a comfortable position, I suddenly hear the pitter-patter of little feet. This time, Rachel is awake. She has recently discovered how to turn on her bedroom light. "This is awesome, and since I have the light on, this is a good time to go about the house and find things to get into. Mom and Dad are sleeping. Oh, what fun this will be!"

I slowly roll out of bed, chase her down, grab her, and then carry her back down to her room. I scold her, tuck her back into her bed, turn out her light, and then return to my bed.

It is only a matter of minutes, and I hear the same pitter-patter of little feet. I go through the same routine of rolling out of bed, chasing her down, grabbing her, then carrying her back down to her room. I scold her, tuck her back into her bed, turn out her light, and then return to my bed. This routine will continue for the next four hours.

At this point in the night, my rational mind isn't thinking of what I need to do to resolve the problem. When I later report the evening’s events to my wife, she quickly says, "Just put up the baby gate and that will keep her in her room." Brilliant! I couldn't think of that at 3 AM. Like the nightly ritual with the cat, I will add this to the list of things to do.

I look at the clock..... 4:30 AM. If I'm lucky, I’ll get 2 hours of sleep in before I have to go to work. But, now my mind is active, and I'm thinking of all the things I have to do at work. I finally convince myself to put these things out of my mind and get the sleep I need so desperately.

Just as I drop off, suddenly the house is bright and my oldest son is flipping on my bedroom light and shouting, "I am sick!" In his journey from his bedroom at the farthest region of the basement, he flipped on every light in the house to make his trek to my room and then made this grand announcement. Why couldn't he have shouted, "we've won a million dollars!" or "the British are Coming!" or "I set the cat on fire!"

I get out of bed, find him some children's Tylenol, and then tuck him back into bed.

On my way back to my bedroom I glance at the clock...only 15 minutes before I need to shower and get ready for work.... Matthew is crying and wanting to be fed.