I have a few sleep issues. Insomnia that rears its ugly head at the oddest of times and can leave me surviving off of only three hours of sleep (or less) for weeks at a time.
I am also a sleep walker/talker. Any time I'm way stressed, sick, or in a new/uncomfortable situation I have a tendency to sleep walk and talk. On my backpacking trip, my tarp mates found me trying to walk down to the lake ~luckily I hadn't gotten out of my sleeping bag, so I hadn't made it far. Mark came down one morning to find the couch in the kitchen. I'm sure my mom has some funny stories as well. Its weird, I know.
My oldest son seems to have inherited this trait. I first noticed last year at my parents house. We were staying with them for 6 weeks while Mark was off being Navular. We had all gone to bed and I hear our bedroom door open. I sit up and notice Braxton walking out - and calling for me. When I caught up with him, it was way weird, seeing me didn't seem to phase him and he was still looking for me. I don't remember how I got him back to bed - but I remember thinking, "oh this poor kid might be taking after me".
Then last night, he woke up crying his head off. We're deep in nightmare territory, so I figured that's what the all-call was for. But, he told me (in a very odd way) that he wasn't scared, just sick. Then I couldn't get an answer for what was sick. Since he was all hot and sweaty I figured I'd take his comfies off. I got a little grin from him and figured I'd done my work. About 42 seconds after I got comfortable back in bed another general alert was posted from Braxton's room. This time I didn't seem to be able to calm him down. So I laid in bed with him, and that seemed to help. Except he kept twitching like a dog having a "chasing the bunny" dream. I'm sorry for comparing you to a dog, Braxton, but it works, right? Finally the twitching and moaning started to freak me out, and I finally realized he hasn't been awake for any of this. So I call Mark in, and my yelp out loud for help finally rouses Braxton. He was totally different once he woke up, and finally able to tell us what was wrong. He had to pee. Like a racehorse.
I'm sorry that along with my drastic beauty (yeah, who am I kidding?) you also got this. There will, however, be some awesome stories as you get older.
Friday, July 24, 2009
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