Skip to main content

24 is the new 12

 
In the early years of parenting, I was almost overcome by the potential of there now being 24 hours in a day, instead of the pre-parenting 12.  There always were 24 hours, but now, due to unpredictable sleep schedules, work demands and a need to be alone once in a while, almost all of these 24 hours were now known to me.It was like double the chance to do stuff and time and time again I sacrificed a whole night of sleep to watch back to back Netflix episodes, to complete a proposal for work or to catch up on housework.Now of course, I realize that instead of stealing time, time was stealing from me.  Four years after writing this post, I am scrambling to tidy my life back into 12 hours again.  The chances of a kid needing me overnight are considerably less.  Insomnia is plaguing me by times and preventing me from having quality time not just with myself , but also with my husband. I blame smart phones and my dependence on them. I blame self-employment, but I also blame myself for not being more critical of the concept of The 24 hour woman that I walked right into and embraced so willingly and haughtily.  Nowadays, I still try to wake up early to be more productive, but I am grudgingly accepting of the fact that sleep itself, not resisting it, will boost my productivity. I am finding myself on the brink of tears more often and I feel like my life is a bit like a door with missing hinges. I cannot shut the door easily without having to hold onto it for dear life.

Now, I want my 12 hour day and 8 hour sleep, with some hours to be a buffer in between, but it is not easy to gel those hours that have been so denatured by falling asleep with the light on, laptops and adrenaline.  



Labels

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I entered August without you.

 I won't visit you this month.  You won't call. I will raid your garden and you won't get any of the vegetables. I will make plans without telling you about them. We'll go to the store and not buy you one single thing. Whole books will be read and I will not tell you which ones. I will watch movies and not inform you. The nasturiums will ripen. Last month was different. I changed my schedule and took time off work to be with you.   I dropped all kinds of plans for us to be together. You sent me messages, I received them. I picked up food that I thought you would like at the store and sent you pictures of every beautiful thing I saw. I sang with you. We watched the Great Canadian Baking Show. You chose the recipe for the garlic scape pesto and gave me instructions for making the gooseberry jam. I am in August without you. You are in July.
1 comment
Read more

Fists full of lettuce

 It is a pot of a variety of lettuce plants. It was planted by my mom.  She has been living with Stage 4 bile duct cancer for at least 1.5 years (that we know of, probably a lot longer).  Standing and gardening are becoming harder as time goes on. She learned about gardening from her dad as a kid and kept on gardening every year of her adult life.  Sometimes the gardens were tiny or rudimentary, but with the help of my dad , they have become major and, at times elaborate, growing projects over the years.  Now it is a collection of raised beds and regular beds that hold a host of plants, vegetable and flowers. Something that was clear that first spring with Stage 4 cancer is that gardening would continue in a big way, cancer or no cancer.  It was important to order the seeds and start them inside and get them planted outside, no matter what. Spending time together in the summer with cancer now consistently involves gardening and following instructions. Plant...
Post a Comment
Read more

Vantage Point

 She sat in her chair in the living room.  It was the right structure so that she felt supported and aligned. The vantage point from her chair was and still is ever changing. Through the picture window the flowers budded, the leaves fell and snow drifted, day in and day out.  In the evenings she would watch Jamie Oliver and Great British/Canadian Baking Show with my dad, in the mornings, she would have a coffee and make a plan for the day.  It was the place she returned to time and time again throughout the day , for a rest, for a phone conversation, to read. Through the months of her illness, she continued to recruit volunteers, write letters about causes she cared about, write notes to friends, check Facebook and plan meals to try from that spot.  She and dad did a lot of adventerous cooking during that period and still brought food to share with neighbours who were going through something or needing extra help. As her illness weakened her , gradually her worl...
1 comment
Read more