The Call of the Night Owl

I’ve always had an inner night owl, one who calls to me in the late-night hours, luring me away from the bedroom with promises of a quiet house and uninterrupted time to watch my favorite shows or lose myself in a good book. I’ve been a “late to bed, late to rise” kind of person my whole life, but the habit became even more ingrained when I had children in my twenties. After spending all day caring for tiny humans who constantly needed feeding and changing and cuddling – and even though I generally enjoyed said feeding and changing and cuddling – the idea of a few hours to myself was a seductive temptress I just couldn’t resist.

All mothers of little children know the feeling of being “touched out”, the sense that someone has been pulling, sitting, or climbing on you every hour of the day. It can make even the most patient of people feel frustrated (I’m not one of the most patient) and even the sanest of people feel a little insane (I’m not one of the sanest, either.) It can make it very easy to listen to the night owl when he says, “Come on out to the living room! Curl up on the couch and watch Dancing With the Stars. Nobody will bother you or ask you for Pirate’s Booty – in fact, you can eat the entire bag of Pirate’s Booty all by yourself!”

Now that my kids are a bit older – still little, but at least out of diapers – I don’t feel as “touched out” as I did when they were babies and toddlers. But I still love to stay up late – I crave those silent hours when my family is asleep and I can write, or think, or even just clean the kitchen in peace. I’ve gotten used to going to sleep sometime between midnight and 2 a.m. However, I can finally admit that I’m not at my best in the mornings, when I face the rude reality that I still need to get my kids to school on time and can no longer sleep in like a teenager. I often feel tired, sluggish, and cranky, and I know those things aren’t conducive to being the best mother I can be for my sweet kids. I want to be the best for them – patient, kind and loving. And that’s just plain harder to do when I’m exhausted from only getting five hours of sleep.

This epiphany has helped me embrace a new resolution this year. Instead of vowing to lose weight for the millionth time (which never works – see above reference to entire bags of Pirate’s Booty) I’m going to focus on becoming a healthier sleeper. I know that if I can just get to bed early (or at least before midnight) I’ll have more energy in the mornings, feel more vibrant in general, and have a real shot at being the mother I want to be every day. I’ll miss the magical shimmer of those late-night hours, but I think the payoff will be greater than I can even imagine. Besides, I can still have some of that time, just not as much as I’m used to right now. I’m finally learning that “moderation is key” can apply to other areas of life besides diet. (Just please don’t take my Pirate’s Booty.)

Honestly, I’m looking forward to the much-needed rest that awaits me in the new year. I know my inner night owl might still call to me, when the house is quiet and the sky is dark. But now I hope, in my sweet, dreamless sleep, I don’t hear him.