Sleep, what’s that?

Sleep, it’s the most important meal of the day.  Wait, that’s breakfast or something.  Anyway, people are always going on and on about how freaking important sleep is.  ‘It’s rejuvenating.  It recharges the body.  It keeps you looking youthful.’  Blah, blah, blah.

I always knew I wasn’t getting enough, but I didn’t know the half of it.

I go to bed between 10:30 and 11:00 pm everyday and wake up at 5 am.  People are always preaching this luxurious 8 hours of sleep, but that is an illusive mirage in my casa.  I figure getting a good solid 6 would just have to do.  Sure, I woke up every morning feeling just as exhausted as when I had crashed the night before, but that’s just normal, right?

Wrong.

For Christmas this year, I asked my lovely hubby for a fitness monitor….and he actually listened!  He gave me a Garmin Vivosmart, a nifty little gadget that does way more than count my step and tell me my heart rate.  Along with the added features of telling time, tracking my runs, counting my calorie burn, and being able to turn on my iTunes library (so cool!), it also gets my phone notifications and …. (drum roll) monitors my sleep.

When I was reading the list of features, I didn’t really understand why one would want to monitor their sleep.  I’m asleep, what’s it going to tell me?  This is going to be an uninformative graph.

Boy was I wrong.

I set myself to sleep mode, electronically and physically, that first night and snoozed (I presumed) away.  I woke up in the morning, synced myself, and my jaw hit the floor.  This is what I found.

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Originally I thought maybe all those bumps and jumps were normal.  Then I compared my graph to someone else’s.  Hers had one little bump during her hours in dreamland.  ONE!

Now I’ve always known that I move around while I sleep.  Plus, I frequently wake up and check the clock to see how long I still have until the dreaded buzzer sounds.  But, I had hard-core evidence now that I don’t actually sleep when I sleep.  I mean look at last night.

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Apparently I went out mountain climbing from 11:30 – 12:30 am.  Then I went for a little jig around the block at 2 am.  In fact, I didn’t have anytime during this 6 hours and 23 minutes that I wasn’t moving.

Ugh.

 

No wonder I wake up exhausted.

No wonder I can barely drag myself out of bed.

No wonder my calorie count is showing a 500+ burn from midnight to 5 am.

No wonder I can fall asleep at the drop of a Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

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All I wanted….

Eight hours of sleep, that’s all I wanted.  Eight measly, puny, ridiculously short eight hours of sleep.

The media is always yammering about these eight hours of glorious sleep that I’m supposed to be getting every night.  HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Where? and How?

Maybe I can add together all the times I fall asleep at red lights or catch a quick snooze in a parking lot waiting to pick up a child.

But NOOOOO, they say these minutes don’t count towards my eight hours.  I’m supposed to get ALL of them together, in a row, uninterrupted.

Seriously?

I mean, who does this?

Do these illusive human beings really exist?

Or all they all made up like the illusion that adulthood will be this awesome phase in your life when you finally get to do what you want.

I set out to get the answers once and for all.

After a week being dragged around like a pink teddy bear stuck to a bumper, Friday night was the night for me.  I set out to cross ‘Eight hours of sleep’ off my bucket list and boy, was I ready for it.

I arrived home from night out with friends at 12:10 am.  Ok, so I’m off to a bad start.  Technically, it’s already Saturday, but I can still do this.  I set a land speed record changing in the PJs, washing and brushing what needed washing and brushing, and was under the covers by 12:15am.

A quick check of the phone and calendar verified that #1 that alarm was indeed off and #2 there was nothing looming on the schedule I had to be up for.

Oh man, THIS WAS GOING TO HAPPEN!  Commence sleep time!

I’m out like a light.

Usual dream about needing to go to the bathroom with no where to take care of said duties.  Check.  (Don’t ask.  I don’t know what it means either.)

Unexpectedly pleasant dream where I battle Jenny McCarthy to a dual and win the affections of Donnie Wahlberg all for myself.  (Hey, in the words of Miley.  ‘It’s my dream, I can dream what I want.)

Rain, thunder, and tornado warning that I slept through.  Check.  (Sidebar ~ Pet Peeve, asking me if I heard that thunder last night.  No, no I did not.  I was sleep.)

Zzzzzzzzzz

Zzzzzzzzzz

Zzzzzzzzzz

I’m doing it.  This is happening.  I’m going to make it!

Suddenly, my eyes snap open to the vision of T-Dog staring down at me.

“Mom!?!?  Are you awake?  Are we going to have breakfast?”

I look at the clock.  7:57 am

NNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOO

That was it.  That was my one chance, my Halley’s Comet moment to grasp for the gold ring, and I’ve missed it.  Gone forever.

Or at least another 75 years.