I have a confession.
I’ve waited to long to write todays post. In all honesty I got wrapped up in getting back into the school grove that I sort of wasted time.
As I sit on my bed listening to the rain and glaring at a screen that is incongruously bright against the black of my room there is only one thing on my mind, sleep. And, I’ve decided it is sleep that I am going to write about. (As it’s the only thing I can concentrate on at the moment.)
As a child I detested sleeping. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was convinced that all the best things happened when I was asleep. That grown ups were sending me off to bed so that I would purposely miss out on them.
Once I was sent to bed and about 30 minutes later got out, walked across the house and downstairs to the basement. Perched on the bottom step looking out at my parents having a game night with their friends I demanded a glass of water. My mother promptly told me to go back to be. See the rule when I was growing up was that you could ask to go to the bathroom or to get a glass of water before you were in bed. But, once you were there you were expected to stay unless it was an emergency (which was pretty much death, sickness, or burglary).
I’m not sure what I snapped back at my mom but I know it was rude, and I knew the minute it left my mouth I was going to get in big trouble. The other thing you should know about my family is that my dad is a pretty even keel guy most of the time but he has certain triggers. Growing up the number one trigger I pulled was disrespecting my mom. I was very mouthy, particularly to her. Next thing I know dad is out of the chair and haling me up the stairs. Let’s just leave it at my parents are not anti corporeal punishment and were thorough enough in it that this was only once of twice that I remember it happening.
Needless to say, I avoided sleeping even to my own detriment. Sunday’s were family nap days. My mom and dad would pass out as soon as we got home from church. Even my brother, seven and a half years my senior, would take a snooze. I would be zombie tired, but I’d fight with ever last ounce of my will power to stay awake. I was truly convinced that I’d have a sleeping by the tree on christmas eve moment, and I’d catch some one awake doing something awesome.
Fast forward to my freshman year in college. The college schedule is weird. It took me a lot to get used to. At OCC one of your requirements is to attend chapel. Even though it’s not at an absurdly early hour it always hit at my sleepiest moments (I think it was actually the 7 AM class that made me so tired during chapel). I had been in school for about two weeks. And finally one day after coming back from Chapel, I broke down and gave in. I didn’t have another class for two or three hours.
I laid down on my bed and PASSED OUT COLD. It was the most AMAZING thing I had ever experienced in my whole life. I after waking to the alarm I set (one that I actually didn’t want to kill when I heard it) I texted my parents, “Sleep…I get it now!” The responded with something like, “Welcome to the wonders of college.”
And that was the first time I loved napping.