Burning the Midnight Oil
I'm usually the last one to go to bed. But it hasn't always been this way. Before Bill and I had kids, we watched the late news on television, and then turned in for the night.
But after our first baby arrived, things changed. Sometimes, Erin needed to be fed or was fussy or, more likely, she just didn't want to go to sleep because she might miss something. When Meagan arrived a few years later, she was a much better sleeper, but I don't think Erin has ever gotten past her night owl tendencies.
And neither have I.
I've read recently that introverts, like me, need some alone time to recharge their batteries. Over the years, as my life has gotten busier, my only chance to be alone comes late in the evening, after everyone else is in bed. That's when I usually write my blog, or read a good book, or watch a TV program of my own choosing, without interruption. For the last several months, I find myself waiting until 11:00, or a little later, for Victoria to get home from her evening spent with Caleb, because I just can't sleep well until I know she is safely home.
I've been told that, in many ways, I'm a lot like my Grandma Vawser. I hadn't stopped to think that I inherited my late night habits from her, too, but I suppose it's true. Any time I stayed with her, she was always the last to get to bed. Midnight would usually find her sitting in her comfy recliner, reading by the light of a solitary floor lamp. In later years, she frequently slept all night in her recliner, too.
I have often found myself reading until far too late, just because I don't like to stop in the middle of a riveting mystery novel. I don't have a recliner, though, and I don't intend to get one any time soon.
I prefer the couch.
But after our first baby arrived, things changed. Sometimes, Erin needed to be fed or was fussy or, more likely, she just didn't want to go to sleep because she might miss something. When Meagan arrived a few years later, she was a much better sleeper, but I don't think Erin has ever gotten past her night owl tendencies.
And neither have I.
I've read recently that introverts, like me, need some alone time to recharge their batteries. Over the years, as my life has gotten busier, my only chance to be alone comes late in the evening, after everyone else is in bed. That's when I usually write my blog, or read a good book, or watch a TV program of my own choosing, without interruption. For the last several months, I find myself waiting until 11:00, or a little later, for Victoria to get home from her evening spent with Caleb, because I just can't sleep well until I know she is safely home.
I've been told that, in many ways, I'm a lot like my Grandma Vawser. I hadn't stopped to think that I inherited my late night habits from her, too, but I suppose it's true. Any time I stayed with her, she was always the last to get to bed. Midnight would usually find her sitting in her comfy recliner, reading by the light of a solitary floor lamp. In later years, she frequently slept all night in her recliner, too.
I have often found myself reading until far too late, just because I don't like to stop in the middle of a riveting mystery novel. I don't have a recliner, though, and I don't intend to get one any time soon.
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