Last night our friend Shem came by with the new Doctor Who episodes. It is a bond that brings all truly cool people together, Doctor Who. Or nerds. One of the two. At any rate, once the kids were tucked in and clocked out, we heated up some water and enjoyed the creative adventures of the Time Lord while sipping tea. It was nice. When that was over, Shem and I chatted for a while.
I laugh now, over the appropriateness of the topic of our conversation. We eventually began talking about my headaches. I have had a headache or migraine every day this week, usually lasting all day. Some so painful, they have induced vomiting. I have had these since at least the 8th grade. That is when I mostly remember them plaguing me. In our conversation, we discussed ways or things I can do to eradicate this painful part of my life.
Of course, there is the whole de-stressing thing. That is a difficult one for me to work on. But one of the main ways we talked about was me finding ways to get more sleep, and to make time to exercise as exercise has in the past helped a lot with the consistency and severity of the pain. We talked about the cycle of me wanting to get up to exercise, but not being able to because of the pain of movement, but then I get that pain from lack of exercise. It is a viscous cycle.
After our conversation, I decided anew that I would get up to exercise in the morning, regardless of anything that tried to stop me.
I was going to do it.
I am woman, hear me roar!
I was all powered up, and eager to confront this evil that has plagued me for more than 20 years.
So I went to bed. And it was hot, so I tossed and turned a lot. Right as I was beginning to fall asleep, I heard footsteps, running, bumping into things, and then my door burst open, and a small figure stood in the doorway.
It was Keith.
I pushed myself up onto an elbow and asked him what was wrong. Rather than answer, he walked across the room and climbed into bed with me. He was cold, and he was shaking a lot. I asked him if he had had a bad dream, and he nodded his head. The boy was so scared!
Eventually, he calmed down and stopped shaking as I held him in my arms, trying to make him feel safe and secure. I whispered to him about it being okay to be scared, and dreams sometimes seem so real, but it is important to remember that they are not real. That is why they are called dreams.
*I loved that most of my bad dream speech came from the episode of Doctor Who that we had just watched. It made me laugh that my favorite show had adequately armed me with the words to say to a shaking scared boy.*
And so, I lay in my small full sized bed, sandwiched between Keith and Jeffrey, my arm falling asleep beneath the weight of Keith's head, staring at the ceiling. I don't sleep when there are children in my bed, ever since that time Keith was a baby and I fell asleep while feeding him, and nearly rolled over on top of him. It scared me so much that I can't sleep with kids in my bed. At all.
If I were to be completely honest, though, I would have to admit that I really have a hard time sharing my bed with anyone. I sleep so much better by myself. Once Jeffrey leaves for work, I sprawl out and sleep deeper and more comfortably those last two hours before it is time to start the morning.
So, back to being sandwiched between the boys in my life. I lay staring at the ceiling for a while, until Keith's breathing had evened out, and I knew he was sound asleep. I then used my elite ninja skills to wriggle out of the covers, over Keith, and out of the bed. I grabbed my glasses and phone, and headed down to his room to sleep.
Once I got situated in his bed, just as my eyes were relaxing into the sleep position, I heard running footsteps on the floor upstairs. They were running back and forth, and eventually down the stairs and into the room. I assumed it was Keith wanting to sleep in his own bed, or having been kicked out of mine by Jeffrey.
I was surprised to see Faye standing there, grinning in the light of the nightlight with her pillow in one hand and her blanket dragging behind in her other hand.
"I wanted to snuggle with you." she said. I sighed, knowing full well my intentions of exercising when I woke up were quickly escaping with the waning of the night. I scooted over, held the blanket open, and Faye climbed under the covers, happily flipping her hair into my face, and curling up next to me like an over excited puppy who just got its dearest wish granted.
There I lay.
For a long time.
Apparently she doesn't share her bed well, either, despite her desire to do so.
Around 3:45 I gave up. I needed to visit the bathroom anyway. I crawled over her to get out, and in so doing woke her up. I told her I would be right back, that I needed to go up to the bathroom, and for her to go back to sleep.
Like a sweet lost puppy, Faye promptly followed me upstairs to the bathroom, and then she went to her bed.
So I decided to send Keith back to his bed, so I could sleep a little in my own bed and actually sleep.
I woke him up and told him to go to his room. Somehow in his sleepy brain, that translated into "Go sleep with your sister."
A few minutes later I heard shouts and laughter and squealing from Faye's room. They were playing. I went in to settle things down and convince them to sleep, and after getting Keith a pillow (which is what had started the playing in the first place), I went back to bed. It was now 4:00 am.
Again, just as sleep was beckoning me, I heard Faye's door wrenched open, and Keith stumbled out into the hall, having been expelled from Faye's bed.
Jeffrey laughed, assured Keith the same thing happens to him anytime Faye begs him to sleep with her, it is virtually impossible for anyone to sleep with that girl, and to just go down to his own bed to sleep. Keith said he was still scared from his bad dream, and he couldn't possibly. Jeffrey, being much less prone to give in to the plight of a scared from a dream child insisted, and with much protesting, Keith found himself in his own bed and directly fell asleep.
By this time, though, it was time for Jeffrey to get up and get ready for work anyway. And so I lay in bed listening to him talk to himself in the shower, and hear him rummage around in the drawers, searching for his razor, or his socks, or whatever it was he had lost. I groaned and tightly squeezed my eyes shut when he turned on the light to find the elusive shoes and keys, and flinched as he "slammed" the door shut. I say slammed, but it was probably shut normally and only sounded slammed to my sensitive sleep longing ears.
And then, for the first time last night, I was able to close my eyes, and greet my estranged sleep with a deep breath and completely relaxed and dead muscles. It felt so sweet, that falling into oblivion!
At long last!
Too soon was it shattered by Beth's sweet shouts of "Mooooom!" "Moooooom!"
And so, I had to sacrifice my exercise this morning for two measly hours of sleep.
I am woman, hear me snore!
Good thing the baby is currently sleeping and Keith doesn't get home from school for another hour and a half!
Middle of the morning exercise? Don't mind if I do.
Better late than never. And to you, constant companion of a headache, I bid good riddance!