Sleep

Sleep is a wonderful thing. It is intended to give one's body, and hopefully one's mind, a much needed rest and opportunity for renewal. I've heard that it is during deep sleep that the body is able to heal and repair. The problem with sleep though, is that most of us need about 5 more minutes every night. Or at least that's what we think when we hit the snooze button.

It is amazing to me that babies can sleep almost 24 hours, waking only to eat and to be changed and bathed. We expect that. Doctors encourage that. Then as toddlers and small children, we enforce strict bedtimes and make kids take naps. However, most teenagers don't have a strictly enforced bedtime. My dad always said, "No phone calls, and you must be in the bed with the lights off by 10." But as my sister and I got older, that "bedtime" and those rules allowed for boyfriends who worked late and couldn't call until after 10, maturing girls who wanted to stay up watching tv, or the occasional weeknight date. And it seemed during those years, that my sister and I didn't need as much sleep to be productive. Then into college, pulling all-nighters, hanging out late at Huddle House, parties, going out on Thursday nights...sleep seemed much less in demand. (Unless you count the afternoon naps taken on the couch.) But as an adult, I find that I have returned to a bedtime. I'm usually near the bedroom area by 10, definitely in the bed by 11. Often, much earlier. I no longer am able to nap, except over the occasional lazy weekend (but always on Sunday afternoons--a rule in the Harper family). And as I look to my grandparents, I see a return to the longer sleep patterns. (Mamew being an exception.)

I used to kid that I wish I had a job where I could be paid for sleeping. I always meant that I would like to work in a lab where I could be the subject of sleep studies, judging the bodies reaction to dreams, medications, etc. But I realize how much enjoyment would be lost...the enjoyment I gain from sleeping. I've heard it said that lost sleep cannot be regained. Over-sleeping...not the kind that causes you to be late for work, but the kind where you sleep too much...only causes your body to be MORE tired. Crazy.

A couple of weeks ago, I heard on the radio during my 7 minute commute to work, that most Americans are not as sleep deprived as we think. The non-profit group that usually reports such news to us that we need more sleep than we are getting (TheAmericanSleepCouncilFoundationGrouporsomething), says that we are definitely sleep-deprived. Interestingly enough, some of their research is funded by gifts and grants from pharmaceutical companies that manufacture sleep-aids. Hmmm! The American Medical Association says that the required number of hours of sleep differs for each individual based on activity levels, diet, age, and stress.

I guess all of this rambling of sleep comes from the fact that I felt completely well rested last night. Over the weekend, I slept when I was tired; I got up when I was ready. Last night, I thought to myself, "This is going to be a good week. I'm rested. I'm ready." This morning, though, I went right back to my snoozing routine. I'm pretty sure that even if I didn't have to be at work until 10, or noon, or 2 this afternoon, I would still feel the same pain at having to get up...needing just 5 more minutes of blessed sleep.

Good Morning, Orbit...

I'm a pleaser. I know this. I have mostly accepted it about myself. While I might like to have a "Who Cares?" attitude...this is not my nature. I do care. I care what others think about things I do and say. I care what others think about my opinions, my shoes, my work, my family...me. But more than that, I care about other people. I care what they think about. I care about what they enjoy doing in their spare time. I care about people's motivations, their successes, their struggles. I care about the emotional state of others. I care what makes people happy, sad, angry, disappointed, anxious, and eager. And sometimes, not always, but sometimes...I even care enough to get involved. Although, the older I get...the more I find myself involved even when I would choose otherwise.

I say all of this to say that I may have found the perfect second career for myself. Now, I'm not giving up on education....that was a calling that I don't think I could ignore even if I wanted to. However, this week I have been helping out at my dad's office...answering phones and working the front desk. Mostly my responsibilities consist of answering the phones (which rarely ring), keeping up with who is in the office and who is not, and greeting people as they enter or exit the building through the front. I have the time to read books, do crossword puzzles or sudoku, read the news on the internet, and plan for my upcoming trip to NYC. I can interact with people...but not too much and not too deeply. I can be pleasant and helpful...for brief moments. And I don't have to worry about anyone being too loud...or telling anyone to pull their pants up. But this job, and these responsibilities are all about pleasing others. It is my job...no, my duty...to do everything I can to ensure every person who calls has a positive experience when initially contacting this office. The problem is...I have to do it strictly through my voice.

My Nanny was a receptionist for years at Orbit in Helen. People would always recognize her voice when we would go places and say, "OH! You're the 'Good Morning, Orbit' lady!"
That used to make me so proud...she was so distinct that people could recognize HER VOICE!

I've been practicing my 'Good Morning, Orbit' voice...and it just doesn't sound quite right. But give me time, Nanny...I'll get there.

Joy

I never realized it was possible to love something so much that doesn't even belong to you.

This past Saturday, I witnessed my second baby delivery. The first was several years ago, and although it was a truly awesome experience, it pales in comparison to the birth of my nephew, Jake. It's difficult to describe watching my sister labor through contractions and pain. There were moments I wanted to climb on that table and have this baby for her...it hurt to see her in so much pain. But as I participated in the pushing and encouragement for Andi, I was amazed to see this tiny life appear. It was a struggle...one I'm sure we'll tell him all about on each birthday that passes...but a struggle worth having Andi says.

In the few days since his birth, I've been very fortunate to be with Andi, Jason, and Jake quite a bit. I've been able to hold him and help them and participate in this remarkable event. I can't explain how blessed I feel. When I hold that little guy, and he stops crying and searches for a way to see me...and seems to recognize my voice...I get all mushy inside. He's amazing...and fabulous...and I am so glad to be a part of his life.

I keep thinking of things I hope for him. Things like...I hope he likes to read, and watch scary movies. I hope he's coordinated and fast. I hope he's good with money. I hope he's social and affectionate. I hope he's independent, but still needs his family. I hope he is sensitive and brave. Maybe he'll be a teacher like his mom or a preacher like his Paw-Paw or a banker like his Nana. Maybe he'll be a fireman, or a racecar driver, or an astronaut. Maybe he'll be a soccer player or a musician. Maybe he'll be a lion tamer, or a scientist, or an underwater welder. Maybe he'll be a mechanic, or a plumber, or an electrician. Maybe he'll be a soldier. I don't know what he'll be...and I don't much care as long as he works hard and is happy.

Like I said before, I never realized it was possible to love something so much that doesn't even belong to you....But I do.