Last night I was feeling tired and a bit run down, with a headache. So, shortly after I put Katie to bed, I laid down in the quiet dark bedroom. As could be expected, I was soon asleep. About 11 I got up and decided I didn’t actually need to do the dishes and just turned out the lights and returned to sleeping. I slept soundly until about 545, when the cats work Rio and I decided to take her outside. Feeling pretty good. I started my normal morning routine about an hour early. I got done with the normal stuff and tackled last night’s dishes (spaghetti and meatballs mess). I made lunch, breakfast and a drive to school snack for Katie. Then I realized it was only 630. So, I finished getting dressed and lay in bed to surf the net till Kate woke up. Kate decided to sleep in. It got to about 730 and I decided to wake her up. She was non-too-pleased. Like awaking an angry god, who rains down terror and fire (in the form of pacifiers and stuffed animals and whiny toddler voices). So, I sat in the chair in her room and let her decide when to climb out. Well this went on till about 750, so eventually I just picked her up and got her changed. Much to her consternation. Dressing an uncooperative toddler was like dressing an uncooperative toddler (difficult and unrewarding). I finally convinced/bribed her with some chocolate if she would hold still long enough for me to get her hair into a pony tail. That pony tail was like calf roping. Couple of loops and throw your hands in the air in walk away. Then there was additional discussion about the lack of Curious George on PBS. We were between the 730 episode and the start of the 800 episode, where PBS just shows short commercials from their sponsors. This did not please Kate. She was even less happy when I turned off the TV and suggested we head for the door. Now, instead of being early, we were running late. Which means that I need Kate to eat the PBJ that I fixed her, because she might miss breakfast at school. They are very lovely and always hold a plate and some food even for those who run quite late. But Kate, unlike my other child Rio, is not food motivated. If other kids are outside and playing, that is where she wants to be. She doesn’t care about a banana or even a sausage. She has had FOMO (fear of missing out) from the first. I’m not trying to make her change, just trying to make sure she has the energy and nutrition she needs. (A side note for concerned Grandmas: she does, she was right on track at of her check-up). I got Kate to school, with a no-tears drop-off.
I got to work a little before nine and got a bunch of stuff accomplished. Review done. Final revisions on a manuscript done. Emails done. Updated computer restarted and now encrypted -done (although that part was done by our great IT staff). I then go to get some caffeine, realizing I hadn’t had any yet. Usually by 10 I’m on a second caffeinated grape drink. I thought to myself. Maybe this is what happens when you get a good night sleep. I had so much sleep last night. Then I calculated the actual hours – I got 9 hours of sleep. It wasn’t some monumental 12-16 hour sleep-a-thon. It was a slightly longer than the recommended daily sleeping time. Normally, I go to bed around 12 and wake up around 630. Turns out that is only 6 ½ hours of sleep. An on night where the dog needs out twice, or Kate wakes up, that time shortens even more. Maybe it isn’t apnea or a broke-down mattress, maybe I need to go for distance. Or maybe it is just a combination of all those things and that if I could line them all up I’d be some sort of super-human me. That would require many things. It would require the dog to not have bladder issues, the cat to not tease the dog at 5AM (EVERTY DAMN DAY), Kate to never get sick or have bad dreams, me not to have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, a new mattress, the ability to sleep with a CPAP machine strapped to my face, and 9 hours. I guess I’ll work on it. Or maybe just shoot for not going to bed at midnight (I can always catch Seth Meyers segments the next day).
On another note, I may have lost some weight. I don’t know. My pants feel quite baggy and my belts need to be tightened to their last notch to keep said pants from falling. Of course, this may just be that I do generally purchase baggy pants, and belts, being made of leather, have propensity to stretch over time. This could all be solved relatively quickly, except for the fact that my scale is either broken or out of batteries. I am not sure of which. The scale is in a high traffic area where it gets stepped on regularly. I’ve even seen Katie try to jump up and down on it several times (which points me in the direction of broken). But all of Katie’s 37 lbs does not amount to 10th of the stress I place on it when I just step on it. I got it specifically because it could handle the weight. That information points me toward the batteries. But the scale takes a giant watch battery. And since I don’t have any on hand and they are mildly expensive, I’m going to just keep guessing. Plus, the inaction allows me to believe that perhaps I have lost some weight. Maybe the belt is a credible witness. Maybe it isn’t just the leather stretching.
Maybe the fact that I’m constantly trying to keep my pants up isn’t a sign I need a new belt, but rather that I’ve lost enough weight to drop a pants size. That would be a happy day. Sometimes it is OK to live in the bliss of ignorance and denial. It is 2017 and I’m a liberal, democrat, scientist, working for a federal agency, on environmental issues, and significant student loan debt. In 2017 occasionally, I need a little denial to sleep at night. And, maybe more time and a new mattress.