dreamland delay

"mommy?" 

i jumped.  i was all alone in the kitchen, cleaning out the refrigerator, while chris was working out at the gym.  the house was silent, and with good reason, since it was 9:45 at night.  the kids had been in bed for almost two hours.  i whirled around to face susanna, expecting to find her sick, or scared, or freaked out by a bad dream.  instead, she stood there, squinting in the bright light, and said, "do you remember that time that we went to the fair and i was in the stroller and had a corn dog?"

i sighed.  i'm realizing more and more every day that my Mini Me and i not only share so many physical characteristics -- thin blond hair, blue eyes, funny chin, height -- but so many personality traits as well.  some i don't mind that she's inheriting.  but one that i'm definitely not excited about passing down is insomnia.

i come by it naturally; my mother has dealt with sleep issues all her life, and i have followed in her footsteps.  there's just something about putting my head on the pillow that gets my brain churning.  it drives chris crazy, for as soon as his head hits the pillow, he's out.  even after eleven years of marriage, i forget about this frustrating endearing quality of his; mere minutes after turning off the lights, i'll ask him whether or not he wants to go down to the beach for labor day or what we should buy liam for a birthday present or if he has any interest in seeing a particular movie, and i'll get a grumbled, half-coherent response along the lines of, "i am in no mood to have a conversation since I AM ASLEEP and would prefer to talk about this tomorrow."  and while he falls back into a deep slumber, i lie there in the dark, my mind mulling over important things and unimportant things as i ever-so-slowly drift off.

but insomnia -- at age four?  could it really be hitting susanna so young?  my heart goes out to her.  i hate the fact that she's been lying in that double bed of hers, surrounded by her umpteen critters, thinking about things apparently as far back as last october, while liam, chris's Mini Me, is snoring peacefully in the next room.  it's unfair to her, and i accept the blame.  i wish there were an answer to this.  at least i have ambien tucked away in the depths of my bathroom cabinet when i need it ... but what do you do for a child?

i'm crossing my fingers that school starting will help.  as fun as this summer has been, we've so hopelessly fallen out of any semblance of a routine that i think we're all craving getting back into one.  the insomnia thing easily becomes a vicious cycle if you let it; since she falls asleep so late, she wakes up late.  and because summer is our lazy time, with not much need to be rushing out the door, it's often after 9:00 in the morning before she climbs out of bed.  but liam heading off to kindergarten next week, requiring us to leave at 8:00 to drive him there, is going to rock. her. world.  so i'm crossing my fingers that her body will make the necessary adjustments, and that an early morning will result in earlier sleep at bedtime.

but for the other nights -- the nights that will inevitably happen, when she does struggle, i'll find the silver lining.  i'll scoop up her warm, chunky body in my arms, carry her back to her room, and curl up beside her in her bed.  and we just might talk about that trip to the fair last fall.  or we might sing our standard lullaby of "oh susanna".  or we might just lie there in the silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts, yet inextricably connected in oh so many ways.