I know you’re getting a ton of letters this time of year, and I’m pretty sure a lot of them are going to be coming from mommies. I’m hoping you have room for one more.
Really, I have a very small request. I’m not asking for jewelry or for personal servants or for anything luxurious even. All I want for Christmas is a good night’s sleep. Ok, so maybe that’s not such a small request.
Let me explain, Santa. I try. I really do. I lay down in my bed a good nine to ten hours before my alarm is going to go off. That should be plenty of sleep, right? People only need about eight hours, or so I’ve read. So long as I still remember how to do math, eight is less than both nine and ten. I should be set.
Let’s take last night as an example though.
My husband went to bed before I did unfortunately. I could hear him snoring from downstairs, which isn’t a good sign. When I turned off my light after reading an article in a magazine, I poked him so he rolled over onto his side instead of his back. And continued snoring. It took awhile for my to fall asleep. Santa, maybe you could help my husband stop snoring while you’re at it?
I finally fell asleep, and Mister Man walked in around 11:30. He was crying because his side hurt. I rubbed it sleepily and asked if that felt better. He told me it didn’t, so I suggested going potty or taking a drink to see if that helped. He walked into the bathroom and did both. Then he came back to tell me he still hurt. We finally discovered that wearing two pairs of underwear was causing the pain, so he removed one of them and trotted off to bed. I had to deal with the snoring again. Common sense for Mister Man, Santa? A larger bladder? I’m willing to work with you here.
Around 2:30, I was awakened by the snoring again. From a deep and sound sleep. I swear it was vibrating the bed. Needless to say, it took me awhile to fall back asleep after being so rudely pulled from my peaceful slumber. We’re back to my husband and the snoring thing again, Santa. Any suggestions?
At 3:26, Little Miss started crying. My husband wasn’t moving, so I hopped out of bed to find out what the problem was. She needed a hug from Mommy. I’m guessing it was a bad dream, as she went straight back to sleep. Me, not so much. How about helping Little Miss sleep through the night? Or maybe wave your magic wand and have my husband wake up quicker?
Around 4:30, I was again awakened by the snoring. This time a quick elbow to the ribs silenced it long enough for me to fall asleep. Eventually. Ok, we really need to address this snoring thing, Santa. Seriously.
I heard Mister Man head to the bathroom again — must have been that late night drink — around 5:20. Apparently I wasn’t so soundly asleep after that last snor-wakening. Yep, a larger bladder is the solution for Mister Man. He didn’t even come into our room to announce that he had to go potty. I just heard him pattering down the hall et al.
After that, I was pretty much sunk. I laid awake, counting down from 200 in the hopes that I could fall back asleep. I know you’re aware that this is my personal insomnia solver. It would have worked, I think. I was down in the sixties when my husband’s alarm went off. He snoozed it, the meanie. It went off again nine minutes louder. Maybe you could bring him an alarm that just reaches out and pokes him. Quietly.
I laid awake and listened to him shower. When he turned the light in the closet on and left the door open so he could find his socks and such, I sighed and tried to roll over. Light is not exactly conducive to sleep for me. Ok, Santa, I know asking for a house that’s large enough that the closet is a giant his/hers set next to the bathroom with the door to the hallway where the closets are, but I think that’s the solution. See, a good night’s sleep is so simple next to this!
By the time I heard the garage door closing, it was beyond hope. I was exhausted, but I knew sleep wasn’t coming back to me. I gave up and hauled myself into the shower to start the day about forty-five minutes early.
On the plus side, Santa, I did have one of my most productive days ever. I got so much stuff done. Maybe this whole sleep thing is overrated.
Nope, sorry. I need my sleep. Santa, please, this is the only thing I’m asking for. Take pity on a mom with bags below the bags on her eyes. I promise I’ll be a better mom this year if I get more sleep. Just one good night. Pretty please?
PS I promise I’m making extra yummy cookies for you this year. Not that I’d try to bribe you or anything. That would put me squarely on the naughty list, I know.