How tired I was on the KS trip this last weekend was kind of a wake-up call, so to speak, with respect to my sleep debt. I'm way, way in the red.
I have a tendency to stay up to late. Partly, it's because after Lucy goes to bed is essentially the first time of each day when I have a chance to catch my breath. It's easy to just sit in one place and let thoughts from the day buzz and buzz about in my head. Sometimes I can use that time to get important things done, such as checkbook balancing and doing the dishes. It's a struggle to motivate myself to be productive at that hour and in that "wasted at the end of the day" state. It's even harder to motivate myself to do something constructive, but that requires brain power, such as write & record music (which essentially explains that chryogenically-frozen state of "The Secret of Him" recording). It's even easier to waste time in front of the computer, or aimlessly strumming a guitar.
Perhaps if I can get back on track a little, sleep-wise, I will have an extra 30-minutes to an hour each night in which I have energy and ambition. We shall see. In any event, putting Lucy down last night, I fell asleep right alongside her and didn't really wake up until morning.
A couple of shining moments last night before we fell asleep:
1. She decided (as she sometimes does) that she wanted to read to ME. The book: Wocket in my Pocket. Though of course she can't read, she got a majority of the characters right as she went from page to page, asking me with much inflection, "Is there a Nink in your sink?" and so on.
2. When we got to the part where I refuse to engage in conversation ("I'm not going to talk anymore, Lucy-it's time to be sleeping") she engaged in what has become the norm. A long-winded, whispery stream-of-consciousness monologue in which she covers a great range of her vocabulary and experience, while I silently listen, eyes closed. I don't even remember what the exact subject of the monologue was at the moment I couldn't control myself anymore, but I couldn't help from cracking a smile and starting to chuckle. Lucy, of course, noticed she had an audience. I could hear the moment of her realization: "Ahhh?," followed by a chuckle of her own and, "Do you think I'm----FUNNY, Daddy?" What could I say, but "Yes, Loo, you're funny. You made your Daddy laugh. But it's still time to sleep."
A cold, cold heart I would have, indeed, if I could not always be open to giving some points for great bouts of humour, or creativity.
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3 comments:
That's a really lovely moment.
Sounds like she is developing one heck of a vocabulary. You should put a tape recorder next to you bed and record one of those times together for your memory box.
We're recording stuff on video here and there, but undoubtedly we will miss some good stuff. Sharon also writes a lot of things down for later inclusion in her "baby book."
For a lot of it, though, you just have to hope the experiences burn brightly enough to leave a memory that lasts.
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