It’s 2:00 a.m. My teenagers are still awake. I can hear the murmur of their voices in their room. They are playing XBox with the youth pastor online . . . killing virtual enemies, probably. If I cared more, I would march right in there and announce the time, but I don’t care that much. Tomorrow’s a half-day of school, meaning that it’s pretty much a day off as far as they are concerned.
But. Hold on a minute. I’m going to tell them to go to sleep.
Okay. Now it’s at least dark in their room. You can make a child’s room dark but you cannot make him sleep.
What’s awesome about staying up until 2:00 a.m. is that when your six year old wakes up at that ungodly hour, you are already awake and do not respond with the same annoyance that you might feel if you’d just gone to bed thirty minutes earlier and just drifted to sleep and then startled awake to find a six year old by your bed. No, this is much better. I’m already awake and just now handled the middle of the night awakening (she has a cold and is prone to wake up when she is sick).
Also? When I was upstairs in the bathroom, I had mercy on the beta fish and sprinkled some food into their habitat and they did not respond whatsoever. I jiggled the container, tapped on it. No response. So I shook it with more force, creating a sort of earthquake for the dear beta fish and startled them awake. Oh, sorry! I didn’t know you were asleep. The lack of fish eyelids really is problematic from time to time, especially for the fish.
SHE JUST CALLED DOWN THE STAIRS: “Mommy? Can I watch a show?”
I have finished writing for the night. I’m almost 12,000 words into my fledgling novel. When you figure a novel needs a good 80,000 words, you can understand why I am still awake at this hour. This novel cannot write itself. Added bonus: Very very very late at night the voice telling you how insane you are to think you can write a novel has already fallen asleep. So it’s just me and whatever part of my brain thinks we can do this.
This weekend already has big chunks missing from it. One child has a lacrosse game. (It’s our week to bring orange slices.) Another child has a birthday party. My husband and teenagers were volunteered to help during our town-wide clean-up day. And I am predictable. I want to see a movie . . . and I need to work on my novel during daylight hours. I have to keep on track to meet my deadline–Thanksgiving might seem far off to you, but it’s alarmingly close to me.
But for now, I must sleep.