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Eating honey at 2am

I hear sprinklers click on and chug to life outside on the greenbelt bordering our house. The sprinklers used to come on around 7pm, which is a terrible time because that’s when people go on walks. Our family has been caught in more than one greenbelt sprinkler flash mob. It’s like they coordinate or something. But some city planner decided the early, dark hours of the day would be better, so the time was sensibly changed.

In the middle of the night, the only people who are aware of watering are insomniacs and raccoons. Like me. I’m not a raccoon, but I feel like one.

Being pregnant means being nocturnal. It’s one way to prepare a mother for life in the wee hours. Last night, I was being prepared, again. As if I don’t know. I tiptoed down stairs to look for a cup of yogurt or a banana. Neither was in the house, so I indulged a new craving. I decorated a slice of buttermilk white with too much honey and took it back to bed with me. I sat up with my back against the headboard and listened to my husband’s breathing as I nibbled. The baby kicked.

Over the next hour, I heard a diesel train’s blasting horn, coyotes howling, light wind. I played solitaire on my phone with slightly sticky fingers. Toward 4am, I often hear a bird whose song sounds like Nelson Muntz’s laugh. Ha-ha. Ha-ha. Ha-ha. Repeatedly. You need new material, dude. It’s amazing your species hasn’t died out because if I were a female Muntzbird, there’s no way I’d be nesting with you. By that time, it’s hard to not take the mocking song personally.

I always fall back to sleep, somehow. Occasionally, I give myself spelling tests by word association. The first word that pops into my mind, I spell. That will spark another word. Spell. Then another. RACCOON gives way to MASK which sparks ROBBER and that leads to PENITENTIARY. Then I wonder if I got it right or not because my brain doesn’t have wavy red underlining.

And then my eyes pop open to a bright, sunny room. Sleep happened. After oatmeal, I type a post and am happy to see I spelled PENITENTIARY right.


This is a part of The Extraordinary Ordinary’s Tuesday Just Write institution.

4 comments to Eating honey at 2am

  • Ami

    I remember those pregnant nights. For me they were filled with Solitaire and mentally typing words in my head. To this day, if I find myself waiting in line somewhere I start typing in my head.
    Good luck and just know that someday you will sleep again and sleep well.

  • That is an interesting way to fall asleep. If I find myself having trouble sleeping I might try it. Happily, I rarely struggle with sleep. I miss baby kicks.

  • “As if I don’t know.”

    You had me right there.

    I’m not suffering from insomnia. But I do seem to be sleeping so hard, when I have to wake up with one of the kids (because, invariably, someone always wakes up), I can’t get back to sleep right away.

    Tonight, I’m spelling instead of making a grocery list. I’ll come back tomorrow and tell you how I did. (I-N-V-A-R-I-A-B-L-Y.)

  • A baby kicking me from the inside. Wow. That is something I miss. Though I don’t want a repeat of all those years that follow. Much as I adored them.

    Slightly sticky fingers. I love having you tell me about this. I’m not sure why. I think it’s because I feel connected to pregnant you. To the part of my womanhood I’ve left behind. It makes me feel happy to know I still exist in my memory…that me who had babies. I wish you sleep and joy with this new bundle.

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