Sleep Ritual. Unisom & Wine

So in my "free" time I read an article about the importance of having a night-time "ritual" to unwind from a busy day and prepare the mind for sleep. Now apparently checking work email, Facebook, Twitter or reality television does not count as an acceptable "ritual." The article suggested that down time is critical for a good night's sleep.

As a chick who regularly has a glass (or three) of wine, a couple of Unisom and a quick prayer to the sleep Gods as my bedtime routine I was intrigued.  

It takes no genius I suppose. Everyone has heard that a glass of warm milk and a bedtime story is the key to sleep success, but I never quite bought into it myself. 

My days are busy. Managing what is now a full time work schedule, three insane offspring, a household, physical therapy and my crazy life...isn't as easy as I make it look.  (She does it with such grace, said nobody ever.)

Evenings are something I just get through. Survive. Preparing a dinner which will be the subject of many dirty looks and harsh criticism, negotiating bath and bedtime which has crept up later and later as my children grow, and trying to maintain a sanitary home with three boys 8 and younger (why can't they pee in the toilet??).... leaves little room for any "me" time. Yet.... according to sleep experts, such time is the key to sleep success. Fuck.

The article suggested  that meditation, a hot bath (with candles!) or deep breathing exercises are fabulous predecessors to a sound sleep. I know you can't see me now, but.....*eye roll* screw that crap! I took a "mindfulness"  class my senior year in college (easy A), and man did I try. I sat in my crappy apartment being mindful of the bacteria infested carpet underneath me, noticing the stench of stale beer that clung to the peeling paint, being aware of the fact that my roommates were in the next room drunk off their asses and having way more fun than me.  Yeah. Being mindful ended up pissing me off.   As for a bubble bath. Meh. Maybe in a beautiful hotel, but in my bathroom.... not so much, it's too hard to resist grabbing a bottle of bleach and some rubber gloves.  

So I jest, but yes, I see the value in finding something that might work for me. Something so perhaps eventually I can wean myself from the Tylenol PM (not the wine! stay away from my wine!!) But what is it? I know! How about three child free hours a night? No? Um... a personal massage therapist who will visit me nightly? Not realistic? Oh I got it! A sanctuary in my home, clean, peaceful, absent of all Hotwheels, used and discarded pull-ups or half eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwiches! (Yes. Pure fantasy.)

Okay, Okay. Clearly I do not have an open mind. Perhaps I just like my wine. Maybe I'm just anti-sleep, or afraid of my own mindfulness. Whatever. It's time for some Unisom.

Nighty-Night!

I'm Back!

Oh my poor sad neglected blog. Yes, yes I have forgotten you. Between nursing a broken ankle back to health, nursing a child with a concussion back to health, a broken laptop, a visit from one of my best Oakland girlfriends, and a ladies trip to Vegas.... I haven't had time for you. And I'm sorry. I had so many earth-shattering blog posts in mind, but instead you will get a brief, and hopefully mildly entertaining run down of recent events.

The Ankle:

One word-sucks. Well it's on the mend now, but the whole experience was entirely sucky. From the 3.5 weeks in a cast, developing tendinitis in my right wrist from using crutches, intense pain in my calf, and an acute case of claustrophobia, to the two weeks in a clunky boot, answering countless innocent questions about my injury, to the painfully boring hours of physical therapy... I am flipping done with this ankle business. So done with it. And I have come to the final decision that my running days are officially behind me. My bones are too weak to withstand the high impact exercise, and thus I am on a quest to discover my new fitness passion. Expect more on that in the months to come!

The Concussion: A little over a week ago my eldest son was in a sledding accident on a glacier in the mountains. I was not there, but received the call that no mother wants from my frantic husband informing me he was in an ambulance with our kiddo on his way to the hospital. It's a long story, and frankly not funny at all, so I'll keep it brief, Zack is fine. He had a concussion that left him with a terrible headache and unable to participate in many of the activities he desperately wanted to over the past week. All and all we are very lucky with the outcome, and I think my husband and I are more traumatized by the event than my tough eight year old.

My Oakland Gal-Pal (Hannah! That is you!!) was awesome enough to come to Denver for a girls weekend and it was fan-fipping-tastic. There was a massage, a makeover, dinners, a hotel stay and some major catching up. We splurged on a night at The Oxford, a classy, hotel in downtown Denver. After our spa treatments we got glammed up and went to a swanky restaurant. I had envisioned us hitting the bars after dinner and stumbling into our room, well...at the very least after midnight, however somewhere around dessert our eyes heavy, we realized there was one only one thing we wanted.... our own fluffy bed. There is something to be said for sleeping alone underneath crisp overstuffed bedding. Damn straight I'm old. And proud of it. We slept in, had lattes and then went to brunch. A-May-Zing.

Vegas: This past Mother's Day weekend I flew to one of my very favorite get-aways- Las Vegas in honor of a friend's fortieth birthdays. I met up with twelve other lovely ladies (most of whom I had never met before) at the Wynn hotel for a weekend of total gluttony. First there was the $38 sunscreen I purchased outside of the  pool (yes, that was a mistake), then there was the $21 Pina Colada I ordered immediately after (totally not a mistake it was worth it), and then there was a whole lot of laying around the pool, drinking and eating. Pretty much perfect. I do have to say, I didn't feel quiet the same in sin-city as I did ten years ago. I had no desire to hit the clubs and I felt a little out of place at the invite-only pool party we stumbled upon, which was filled with rowdy 20-somethings dancing more than half naked, cocktails in the air.  At first I felt a little guilty for not indulging more. Why wasn't I wasted, it's Vegas? How could I come back to my room at midnight, it's Vegas?  Why am I not flashing my naked breasts at the 21 plus only "European" style pool, it's Vegas? And then it hit me. Because I don't want to, that's why, and I am totally ok with that. Damn it. Guess that means I'm a grown up now.

So there you have it. My first blog post in a month. Hopefully more to come. Thank you for reading :). Until next time...