I don't know why I continue to stay up when I'm so tired it takes conscious thought to keep my eyelids open. The stubborn child that hated sleep as much as brussel sprouts never matured along with the rest of me. I can't even sleep in on the weekends, afraid I'll miss the fun I suppose.
When really there are few things that makes me as 'fat and happy' as my fuzzy pink blanket and my pillow, who is more of a dear friend than a pillow. That pillow has seen me through sleeps, weeps, and happy occasions alike. She's like "Tree" in Shel Silverstien's "The Giving Tree". I'll have to give a loving eulogy when I finally send her off to her final resting place.
I suppose it wouldn't be so hard to go to sleep if this wasn't the only time of day (10pm) that I didn't have an adorable needy little creature attached to me or calling my name: "Mama...mama" or (if I ignore long enough) "Stephhhhanie!" And, so I sit here in a delirious stupor, because I know once I put my dizzy head down I'll be out for the count and morning will come sooner than I'd like. But, alas off to bed I go!