Thoughts That Go Through A Mom’s Head In The Middle Of The Night

by Christine Organ
motherhood can't sleep
Christopher Futcher / iStock

It’s the middle of the night and the rest of the house is asleep—except me. If I get back to sleep right now, I will still be able to piece together something that could pass for a night’s sleep instead of nap.

How is it that Slumbering Hubby can sleep so soundly? I wish I could sleep like that. Why does motherhood so often seem to be synonymous with insomnia? He looks so peaceful, and kinda sexy too. Maybe if I snuggle up close, he’ll wake up. We should cuddle more, and go on a date, for goodness’ sake. We haven’t been on a date in forever.

Maybe we could get a sitter Friday night and see that movie that came out last month. What’s the name of it? Everyone’s been talking about it. Oh, what the hell is the name of that movie? The one starring…oh, what the heck is her name? The girl who’s married to Ryan Reynolds. She was on Gossip Girl…the one with the cool hair. Oh, good grief, what the hell is her name?

I should wake Slumbering Hubby up and ask him. He would know. So would that friend who moved away last year who I haven’t talked to in ages. I wonder how she’s doing. I should email her. Maybe we can plan a girls’ weekend sometime soon.

A girls’ weekend?! Puh-lease! I can’t even manage to talk on the phone with my BFF these days. Come to think of it, I haven’t heard from her in a several days. I hope everything is OK. I hope she’s not mad at me. Why is she mad at me?!

Calm down, she’s probably just busy, or something horrible happened! What if she’s in the hospital or her kid broke his arm and I had no idea?! I’m a horrible friend. I should call her. I’ll text her now.

Oh, what the hell is the name of the actress?! I used to know this stuff. I used to be able to tell you about the latest celebrity couples and which ones were about to get divorced. I used to know fun things and do fun things too, like go to movies and eat at fancy restaurants and dance at hip nightclubs. Now, I can’t manage to see a movie before it goes to DVD, and I can’t remember the name of the actress with the gorgeous hair.

Maybe I should grow my hair out again, or go blonde.

Or maybe I should go au natural. You know, embrace the grey. Why do women need to fit some kind of societal ideal of beauty anyway, for heaven’s sake? We’re beautiful just as we are. Didn’t Julia Roberts stop shaving for a while? Okay, too much—that’s where I draw the line. Come to think of it, I’m due for a waxing so I might as well get a quick color touch-up while I’m at it.

The dog sure does feel cozy nestled up against me. But—my God!—what is that smell? Did he fart? Or did he shit in the corner again?

Ugh, I wish the damn dog would get off me. He smells and now I have cramp in my leg. I should stretch more. I should do yoga. Everybody does yoga. All I hear is down-dog this and sun-salutation that. Blah, blah, blah. Then again, maybe if I did yoga, I wouldn’t have middle-of-the-night leg cramps. Maybe if I did yoga like Slumbering Hubby (even he does yoga!), I’d be blissfully snoring away. Yes, yoga. That is the answer to all of my problems. Yoga.

Ahek-huck! Ahek-huck!

What’s that noise? Is one of the kids coughing? Oh, great. He’ll probably wake up with a fever, all snotty, coughing up phlegm, and have to stay home from school. Shit, I have so much work to do tomorrow. I can’t afford to stay home with a sick kid. Come to think of it, my throat has been feeling a little scratchy lately. I hope I’m not coming down with something too. Is it too late to get the flu shot?

I need to remember to get oranges, Airborne, and anything with 500-percent vitamin C from the store tomorrow. I should probably throw in some vegetables, too. Maybe if we ate healthier, we wouldn’t be plagued with flu germs. When was the last time we had vegetables with dinner? Last night was pizza with a side of pizza. The night before that was subs. Wait, there was some lettuce on the subs. That counts as a vegetable, right?

Great, an hour has passed. I’m still awake, and I still can’t think of that actress’s name. What the hell is her name? I think she just had baby. She probably fits right back into her size 0 jeans though. I bet she does yoga.

I need to close my eyes and relax. Take a few deep breaths. If I get to sleep right now, I’ll get enough sleep to qualify as a long nap. I should try that meditation trick I read about a few months ago. What was it again? Something about inhaling to the count of 7, holding for a count of 7, and exhaling to the count of 7.

Inhale, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Hold, one, two, three, four. Gasp! Shit, I can’t hold my breath for seven seconds. Who can hold their breath for seven seconds? That’s witchcraft.

Maybe I should start meditating. That way when the kids are bickering and whining, I can just look at them with a regally serene look on my face instead of screaming at the top of my lungs. They might say, Mom, why do you have that weird look on your face? But I’ll just smile and think, I’m meditating. I’m fucking meditating.

Breathe in. Fuck this shit. Breathe out. Fuck this shit. Now that’s a meditation I could get on board with. Maybe that would help me deal with that difficult client pestering me to finish her project. She’s never going to be happy, and she’ll complain to my boss, and I’m totally going to get fired. And then we’re probably going to lose our house and car and have to move back in with my parents. Oh my God, we’re going to have to move in with my parents!

Well, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. The kids would see their grandparents more often. I wonder how my dad is feeling. I should call him. I wonder how my mom is doing. I should call her. I don’t call home enough. I’m a horrible daughter. I should tell them I love them more.

My kids probably won’t call me either when they’re grown up. I should tell them I love them more.

Blake Lively! That’s who it is! I wonder if she calls her parents. I wonder if…

That’s it! I know how to finish the client’s project. It’s brilliant! The client is going to love me. My boss is going to love me. My troubles are over.

If only I could just get a little sleep. Maybe I should just get up and start my day. The alarm will go off in 30 minutes anyway. I’ll just close my eyes for a couple minutes and then I’ll get up.

27 minutes later…

“Momma! Time to wake up! You are such a sleepyhead.”

Sigh…how many hours until I can go to sleep?

And what was that great idea I had in the middle of the night? Something about Blake Lively?