L2’s been poorly for the last nine days, which has been horrible and heart-wrenching, as he has had a very high temperature on and off that has spiked at ad hoc moments and has floored him when it does. As a result, sleep has been at a premium; starting the night after I didn’t sleep as I was striding through London for walkthewalk.org. So it’s fair to say that sleep has been as sleep has done since then.
This has led me to consider my relationship with sleep. Sleep now is a treat; not the six hours standard interrupted by the alarm’s rallying cry, not that sleep; the kind that you wake up from feeling you’ve drained a glass of perfectly fizzy ice-cold Sprite at a moment when all you craved was sharp tangy lemon fizz. The perfect refreshment.
I don’t expect it anymore, and there have been times when even a day off sick, feeling drained and disastrous, has been underpinned by a quiet and guilty thrill of pleasure that a map is medically in order. And last week’s tactical pre-Moonwalk sleep? One of the unexpected highlights of the decision to do the walk in the first place – a Saturday afternoon nap, justified.
I don’t think I know anyone who would say they get as much sleep as they want; sometimes I’m not sure I get as much sleep as I need, either; but there are things I want to do which take priority. I feel more refreshed from a walk with the dog at 6am than an extra hour’s kip; so that’s the choice I make.
When the Ls were teeny I thought that would be the most sleep-deprived, but parenting turns out to be a course of not sleeping for multiple different reasons. When they’re teens and don’t get up til midday I guess I’ll be awake the other end, waiting for them to come back at 2am. Looks like six hours will be the maximum for a whole to come!