I miss REM

No, no, not the band. (Although I miss them too.)  I miss sleep. I miss deep, blissful, rapid-eye-movement sleep.

About two months ago the bubbas took to coming into our bed at 2:00 am. I was beyond annoyed. I pee and shower in the constant presence of these two. Could they not afford me the decency of six hours of uninterrupted sleep?

The mister reminded me that Magnus did the exact same thing at their age and that I was pretty gracious about it. I have no memory of this. I think they are all conspiring against me. Goddamn them.

So, my point. I think something happens in the Mother Brain after you expel the placenta. The neurons fire in a weird, OCD-like way. Once I am awakened from sleep, I cannot return to it. I lay in bed in a weird state, like right before you undergo anesthesia. In this twilight I start to think about stuff. The List. The List of Stuff. It's important stuff. Thoughts march their way across the little gray cells and they look something like this:

- Did I unload the washing machine? How come no one unloads the washing machine?
- Is it a school day? It is. Magnus will expect breakfast.
- Is Logan gaining weight? He might be gaining weight.
- The pillow covers. Are they still at the dry cleaners?
- If I fall asleep now, how many hours will I get?
- The Roth IRA. Must contribute money. Soonest.
- Logan. Is he gaining weight?

I have no idea how I used to work in a high-pressure job and maintain nighttime unconsciousness. I was more talented than I gave myself credit for.

Must go. Time to brush the kiddos' teeth, read stories, lay down and pass out. Then wake up and wonder if we brushed teeth, are the stories really enriching....