Playing A Game

Lately, I’ve been playing at a very dangerous game. I’m caught in a serious game of chicken. A game to see who falters first.

Currently, I’m winning.

You see, there are many things in my day I’d like to accomplish. From work to parenting to cleaning to crafts and chores and organizing my home and exercising, these are all things that I both want and need to do. Since the hours we currently have in a day (24 of them if you weren’t counting) aren’t enough, I’ve had to make some arrangements to lengthen my day.

Otherwise, I’m not getting a lot of sleep. Well, not as much as I need. I could sleep 10 hours and also have a nap just to feel rested.

It seems to me that I’m playing a game to see who wins: Me or my body. And I know how dangerous this can get. I’m at risk of running on empty and will suffer the consequences but…it feels so good to be able to pick up Jake from school, take him to karate/soccer/swimming then home for a home-cooked meal and homework. Then some family time playing games and reading stories.

And after his bed time? That’s when the battle really begins. My bed will call and I’ll lay down for a second, a split second and start to feel the draw of slumber. My energy will slowly begin to funnel down, through the springs and stuffing, through the wooden box strings and onto the floor, puddling beneath me. I become a motionless lake pooling between my sheets.

Comfortable…silent. Still…

Out of nowhere, I feel a tug behind my belly button. The slightest feeling of motion as I slowly start to give in to the call of slumber. It begins to tug harder, pulling at me, reminding me of all the things I have yet to accomplish. The quilting and the laundry and the dishes and the trash that needs to be dumped.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remember the game. This game of chicken and seeing who will give in first. And I don’t like to lose. So I push my lifeless body up from the comfort of my pillow top mattress and stumble to the sewing machine.

Click, the light turns on and I plug in my iron. While it all warms up, I start my movie and skip down to the dryer in the garage while the opening credits roll.

Hours pass and my movie is done, the clothes are folded, I have accomplished some creative work in my sewing area and now I’m exhausted.

But I’m won another round. While my body could have taken me down and lulled me to sleep, I stood my ground and stayed awake to work, to create and to complete a task or two.

The question remains, how long can I trudge on like this? How long can my body withstand the insane need for more sleep while my mind drags me up from the edge of dreamland to get more done? To fit more in?

As I sit here yawning, I begin to wonder if I need to concede and let my body win one round.

But only this one.


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