Unlike "Rupp Van Winkle" (a.k.a. my husband), I can not fall asleep anywhere, anytime. All the stars need to align for me to fall asleep and stay asleep. When I am almost asleep and a ginormous firework goes off outside my bedroom window and I nearly pee my pants, I have a hard time dozing off again. Or, if just as my thoughts are turning into funny images of oddly shaped elephants behind my eyelids, and I suddenly remember something I said during playgroup that could have been misinterpreted, that's it for me. Pull up my hair and put on my glasses, it's time to clock back in for a few more hours.
During these hours I have limited options available to me. I know I want to be out of bed, because awake and in bed is like an anxiety feast and my brain is the main course. I can't, however, do or read or watch anything that overstimulates me, or I will be up past 3 a.m. (which, as you know, has devastating consequences for a mom with young kids that crow with the roosters).
What I usually choose to do is glance at Facebook photo albums (though I can't make any comments because I will regret it when daylight and clear-thinking return to me), or surf Youtube.
What was I watching this morning on Youtube at 1:30 a.m.? Pat Benatar, circa 1980-something, in a navy blue body suit, with a red plastic belt and shoulder pads, and eyeliner that could have grabbed the microphone. Several music videos later, when the white, drape-like thingies floating through the "We Belong to the Night" video started to look like toilet paper hanging from a tree on a Saturday morning, I realized I was sleepy again and I drifted back to bed.
Works every time.