A love letter

**DISCLAIMER: For the record, my wife gets far less sleep than I do.  But being a man, I get to complain far more than she does.  That, and I’m the one with a blog.**

A love letter.

Dearest Sleep, 

I miss you.  When we were kids, we were never that close.  I viewed you as a chore – my parents wanted us together, but I thought you would just get in the way of having fun.  At the time, I would have much rather been causing mischief and creating more gray hairs on my parents’ heads.  When I was a teenager, we grew closer.  I stayed up late, but then slept late.  My high school started at 7:25 in the morning[1].  We would occasionally spend time together in class – especially when I had Physics first period.

When I became an adult[2], I tried to keep our relationship the same as in our teen years.  I tried staying up late and waking up late.  But work got in the way.  We started to realize how beautiful you were – especially early in the morning. Things were great…that is until kids came in the picture.

Once you have kids, you think to yourself, “You don’t know what you got until it’s gone[3].”  Those pesky children got in the way.  The love of sleep I have tried to instill in them.  Do they heed my advice?  No.  They keep me up at night, seemingly wondering why I am so upset at their dislike of bed.  Then, when daytime arrives, they can fall asleep without effort.  It is like they are poking fun at the relationship struggles you and I have, sleep.  Oh, how the absence of responsibility can mean spending quality time with you.  Hopefully soon, they will see the light.  Figuratively, I mean.  If there is any light whatsoever, it decreases their chances of falling asleep.

I took for granted our cherished relationship.  With a new baby in the house, it has been few and far between that we have had our chances to be together.  Can we mend this broken connection?  I miss you so much it hurts.  I can feel it in my bones.  Even others can tell that there is something wrong.  “You look like you need more sleep,” they say.  Or worse, others may complain about their own relationship with sleep, that they are “tired.”  Oh, if they only knew how well they have it. 

Someday it will be better.  I hope.  How I yearn for uninterrupted time together.  A time when I can share complete sentences with people without them thinking I am under the influence of something.  Please, come back soon.

Until we are together again,

(A very tired) Grumpy boy.



[1] Why the school had a start time this early, I will never know.

[2] Only in terms of age, not necessarily maturity level, as in my case.

[3] You know it’s a strange love letter when I’m already quoting Joni Mitchell.

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