Bedtime

It's about eight o'clock as I sit down at the computer to write this. Tabitha is lying in bed reading one of the Harry Potter books. She's been in bed for about 15 minutes already. This is her usual routine (at least on my days off). She's an early to bed, early to rise kind of girl (only because of her alarm).

Abigail is downstairs watching the movie "Over the Hedge." She will come upstairs in about twenty minutes and tell me she is ready for bed. If she is really tired she'll say, "No story tonight" and she'll crawl into bed and fall instantly asleep. She usually wakes up with the sunrise.

Aidan is vacuuming downstairs. He's been vacuuming for the last hour. Pretty soon, I'll go downstairs and tell him it's time for his shower (he likes to shower now). He won't be happy. He'll want to watch his shows on TV. I'll insist he takes his shower and then I'll let him watch "Wow, Wow, Wubzy." He'll sit on the couch transfixed by the television. At about ten, I'll go downstairs, turn off the TV, and put him in his bed. He won't be happy about this either. He'll cry and complain and insist I read "two" stories for him. I'll agree to one. He'll insist he's not tired. He is. Eventually he will lie down and ask me to put his blankets on him.

And then the house will be quiet.

There was a time when I went to bed relatively early. My days of choosing to stay up late and getting up early are long in the past. Now, I have no choice.

I've been working the graveyard shift at the salt mine for over a year now. It has started to screw up my sleep cycle. I can't get to bed much before midnight. I'll lay in bed reading until about one o'clock. And then I'll shut off the light and try to get to sleep.

Try.

Sometimes I go to sleep quickly. Some nights I don't. When the alarm goes off at six o'clock, I'm not really ready to get out of bed. But I do.

For some reason, I have an overwhelming desire to take a nap at about noon.

The Night Shift

I've been working nights in the salt mine for about a year now. At first, most days passed in a fog of half remembered conversations and missed appointments. I struggled to sleep during the day, the bright sun boring its way through my closed eyelids. I would fall asleep and then wake up four hours later and not be able to return to the blissful dream-like state.

I never even considered taking a sleep medication because, seriously, who has eight hours to devote to sleep.

Slowly I got used to my world being turned topsy turvy.

I remember most conversations now.

Things turned around for me when I splurged on a set of heavy drapes. They block most of the sun out and allow me to sleep in relative darkness. I still have a lot trouble making the drive home in the early morning hours. Sometimes I'll stop at Starbucks for a cup of coffee and a chance to stretch my legs.

Only once did I catch myself shutting my eyes for a moment too long. The rhythmic rumble of the reflectors glued to the freeway startled me awake.

But things are not all rosy.

On my days off I can't get to sleep until midnight. This is normal for many people but my family is usually sound asleep by nine-o'clock. And then I have this nearly uncontrollable urge to take a nap at about eleven in the morning.

Yesterday morning, I came home from work and crawled into bed. I slept for about six hours and then woke up with a splitting headache. I called in sick. The family went to bed at their usual time. I stayed up until about eleven and then crawled into bed to read. I read until one.

And then I couldn't sleep. I just laid in bed for five hours drifting into and out of consciousness. My afternoon nap was a welcome relief.

Tonight I'll do it all over again.