Islands of Awake

Naps are like little islands of sleep in the middle of an ocean of wakefulness.

What do you call those little islands of wakefulness in the middle of sleep? Shouldn't they have a convenient, little word to describe them? Insomnia refers to a recurring problem and not to the little island itself, so I need something else. Let's see. Wakefulness. Wakeful times ...? WAkeFul Times? WAFT?

I'm sick of WAFTing. I wafted so much last night that I actually came up with the ridiculous little term "WAFT." That tells you how tired and groggy I was. When I waft, my brain goes around in circles and I feel grumpy. I was awake for about two hours last night and felt very grumpy about it. Charity was lost and all I could think about was those pet peeves that drive me crazy about people. How could he...? Why should she...? Why can't they...? I realized what I was doing and tried to rationally call a halt. Then I mentally revisited all the greatest mistakes and disappointments of my life and let guilt and regret seep in for a while. That seemed equally unhealthy and I tried to focus on breathing in and out... in and out... That lasted about two breaths.

I eventually fell back to sleep. I awoke to the sounds of my children talking in blurred excitement. I tried to be nice about it, but I snapped. "I didn't sleep well last night. PLEASE GO DO SOMETHING ELSE!" It wasn't too harsh, but I hate to make my children feel unwanted ... which they were, but I didn't want them to FEEL that way.

I forced myself awake 15 minutes before my oldest left for school, made him two pieces of toast and sent him out the door. Five minutes later I looked at the calendar to plan my day and realized I had missed school pictures. This is not too big of a deal, except that I can imagine my son's hurt confusion when he realizes everybody else has money for pictures, slick hair and a nice shirt. My son left for school with hair poking up in back and lying flat in front (sigh) and a 4-H t-shirt. That's high-class. This will be the class picture to be buried and never remembered. The class picture that Fox News will latch onto when my son is a famous something-or-other. This will be the class picture that his fiance looks at and says, "You certainly did end up looking nicer than you looked in 2nd grade. Isn't it marvelous that we grow up?"

So now I prepare myself for the grumpy little face that will come home. There will be accusation in his eyes and he will be holding back tears as he screams, "YOU FORGOT ABOUT SCHOOL PICTURES!!" Luckily for him, I have a Plan B. I'm going to make sugar cookies for a church activity tonight and they will be sitting here warm and ready to be frosted. I know I shouldn't bribe away anger with sugar, but sugar cookies are very therapeutic. At least, that's what I'm betting on.