Even 2 am is a good time to stop and smell the flowers, and enjoy a still life moment of beauty when you’re up with the new baby, and away from the hectic rush of the day.
Having said all this, let’s hope my old pal insomnia will take a hike, so I can snuggle down with the little one, and catch a few more winks before my teenager gets up early for her first ballet competition later this morning.
To all the busy mamas of the world, who are also on the 24/7 shift, I salute you! 🎉🦸♀️🎉
It’s nearly 11pm. I’m sitting propped up in bed with tons of pillows behind me, and more under my legs to prop up my feet, slowly chewing a ginger candy to fight the heartburn that creeps up my throat and threatens to explode there when I lay down. The baby in my belly keeps stretching and fluttering, and having some kind of contest with himself about how far he can fit his little feet up under my ribs.
I’m so sleepy but at least I’ve already had a nap when I fell asleep with our toddler this evening, so the exhaustion isn’t so desperate as it was at dinner, when I could barely keep my eyes open. The little bean, now more like the size of a bunch of celery, seems to think I should wake up at 4 or 5 am and stay that way till morning, so the days are feeling awfully long.
I have appreciated having the quiet time alone to read or listen to audiobooks, but the hours aren’t exactly ideal for someone required to keep functioning normally in the day time. So as exhausting as the first few weeks with a new baby can be, I’m looking forward to resting in bed and taking naps with the little one. At least a cuddly newborn is better company than heartburn deep in the night!
My blog has been rather serious lately, so I decided it’s time for a laugh. What better way, when up with pregnancy heartburn and insomnia, than to write a spoof of a Johnny Cash country song? When you’re seven months pregnant and can’t sleep, you get to do stuff like that—it says so in the manual, pg 136. (What manual?? This girl is making stuff up…)
So put on your cowboy hats, strum your imaginary guitars, and enjoy…and if you’re up with heartburn, too, just pretend your TUMS are marshmallows…
🔥 Burning Ring of Fire 🔥
Heartburn’s a burning thing
And it makes a fiery ring
Round and full of gas
I am a pregnant lass
🔥
I lay down and a burning ring of fire
Shoots up my throat like an electric wire
And it burns burns burns
That ring of fire
I am on fire
🔥
I lay down and a burning ring of fire
Shoots up my throat like an electric wire
And it burns burns burns
That ring of fire
I am on fire
🔥
The taste of love is sweet
But it keeps me on my feet
I lay down like a sleepy child
Oh, but the fire went wild
🔥
I lay down and a burning ring of fire
Shoots up my throat like an electric wire
And it burns burns burns
That ring of fire
I am on fire
🔥 🔥 🔥
Of course, after admonishing our kids not to wake up too early for Christmas (they once woke up at midnight to open the stockings on the ends of their beds) it would be me, their mom, who woke up at 2:30 am and couldn’t get back to sleep. So silly, as the kids and I had worked so hard to prepare ahead, had finished wrapping and had even stuffed the stockings and stowed them in a box days ago, so I wouldn’t have to burn the midnight oil playing Mrs Clause. Yet I woke up. Was it pregnancy heartburn, excitement, or insomnia?
Whatever it was, I decided Santa’s tradition of the post-midnight snack was a good idea and got up to have an angel sugar cookie and a glass of milk. I’d say I had a snack with Santa, but you’d know from Google Santa Tracker that he was already safely back home in the North Pole by this hour.
So while I’m up, I thought I’d take this quiet moment chance to wish you all a very Merry Christmas, despite everything, and a lot of hope for better things to come in 2021. Thank you so much to all our family and friends who supported us from afar this year, as we went through the pandemic, and through the illness and loss of my Dad, Bob, to cancer. Your loving words, encouragement, cards, flowers or food dropped at our door have meant a lot.
Shortly after my Dad passed away, in the morning of November 9th, it began snowing, which is rare on the rainy coast. “Mum, Mum,” said the kids with excitement, “Grandpa is sending us snow from Heaven with Josephine!” It’s amazing how positive and resilient kids can be in the face of loss. Here are a few pictures from our house, where we have tried to find all the joy and sparkle we can this Advent.
May God in his humble nearness at Christmas surround you with blessings and give you the eyes to see them, so the little hidden miracles of each day can shine and bring you hope.
Lots of love from all the Eastlands here at Just East of Crazy Land! Thanks for being here, making me feel less alone as I eat cookies and milk at 3 am, and await the sparkly madness of Christmas morning with 7 kids! ✨🌲✨🎁✨🌲✨
It is worth it to stay up half the night
to see the misty moon
disappear and re-emerge behind the scattered clouds
that drift like silver ribbons across the sky.
It is worth it to peer up at the quiet stars
and hear above the faint roar of a few cars
on the highway far below
the gentle hoot of an owl.
It is worth it so see the silhouette of trees
standing like living paintbrushes
solemn and still
against the pearly grey night sky.
It it worth it to feel the summer air
on my skin at midnight
and know that the goosebumps
are more from awe
than the slight cool of the breeze.
It is worth it to stay up half the night
to be in love with the ever-changing sky
and write it poetry.
Creation is so beautiful—
my heart is bursting with it!
Can anyone feel so happy as I am
alone with the moon,
in the company of memories?
I am a pirate and I do not sleep!
I thief night jewels for me to keep.
My Lady with her treasures bold
is generous when the wee hours wax old.
The words upon her golden tongue
are by the midnight spirits sung.
I catch the songs in my jolly heart,
then bursting full I do depart,
‘n sail away to the break of day
to spread her tales far and away!
I am a pirate and I do not sleep,
my treasure is the tears you weep,
my prize is the laughter in your eyes,
for Insomnia’s bedfellow is a pirate wise.
The snow lies still upon the rooftops.
From a few houses
smoke rises in a misty haze
and the streetlights blaze
like midnight suns.
All is silent
except the steady breathing of my toddler
whom I’m rocking back to sleep.
In the upper bedroom
across the street
insomnia reigns
and the blue lights of the television
flash out a noiseless dance.
But the snow lies still upon the rooftops
and silence greets my sleepy glance outside.
Writhe–
toss, turn and tumble
until the dragons
in my head evict me from my bed.
Late at night
her eyes are wide open
as two full moons
beaming out in the dark.
Inside fires burn
flames flicker and refuse
the stillness of sleep.
She gets up
grabs her book
a sweater
a snack
and keeps a late night kitchen vigil
with insomnia…
–this date with quiet–
delicious silent solitude.
She feeds her soul
with bread and words,
then rubs her fingers together,
lights the surrounding gloom with sparks
and writes fire!
The kids and I recently watched a documentary on Netflix called “Can You Canoe?” about the Okee-Dokee Brothers, musicians who paddled down the Missisppi River and wrote songs. Here’s the link if you’d like to see a preview on ITunes: Can you canoe?
So read this post as a bluegrass song with plenty of twang and a side of lively banjo…
I’m a stranger to the land of sleep
There are foreigners there, whose company I do not keep
And sometimes it’s enough to make me weep
To see the dawn rise upon my open eyes
I’m a stranger to the land of sleep.
Now there must be, a secret lock and key
Something secure, but hidden from me
A way inside the sleepy isles,
Of that much desired country of sleep.
So if you know a trick or two
A special drink, or ‘haps some ruby shoes
A certain way, to sleep before the day
Take me along, I’ll travel with you
As a stranger to the land of sleep.
