Repeated episodes of rising from bed during sleep and walking about OR Why are they awake?

I have been distracted by more important things. Too distracted to post something interesting. I can’t make blogging too regular because my imagination doesn’t run that deep and I’m tired.

From what I understand, sleep comes like a drug in God’s country. Well, in the Grant house sleep is precious commodity. It can be leveraged for backroom deals. Now before your minds start wandering, I mean deals such as more sleep, avoiding cleaning, or several minutes of alone time. Yes, sleep can be used to buy more sleep. It’s a delicate game of negotiations and quid pro quos. But it’s necessary for survival. If I can sleep in to 8 am, I can be refreshed and alert enough to watch the boys so Fran can return to sleep for another 1-2 hours. She’ll then wake up somewhat refreshed, but less likely to punch me in the face due to sleepless irritability. When she doesn’t get sleep she doesn’t laugh. For example, while watching Anchorman, she yawned and asked, “Is it over yet?” I said, “No.” And she punched me in the face. That’s just a hypothetical example, it never really happened. But you know what I mean.

This week we started to let the babies cry it out at night. It’s hard sleeping knowing they’re crying. So I turn off the baby monitor and put a pillow over my head. Prior to this experiment our nights were often interrupted with someone needing to eat, usually around 330am. I would turn over to my wife and say, so eloquently, “You got legs, go get something to eat.” And she would punch me in the face. Not really. It’s all hypothetical, but you know what I mean.

Anyhow, sleep is important. I’ve noticed all other biological processes are thrown off and all I’ll want to do is what Phineas and Ferb or eat everything in sight to compensate for the imbalance. My breathing is arrhythmic, so when I run I’m out of step, leading to disruptive exercise, leading Chris to become Captain Crankypants. At work, I want to sleep when talking with patients about how their lives are falling apart. (Empathy is hard to show when eyes are squinting and heads are nodding; it’s called fotlobbing.)

Sleep in our house can be leveraged for goods, but I’m not sure if this transfers to non-Grants. If it does, let me know and we can work out a deal. Until then, look for the tall, dark, and overtly attractive zombie who is sliding by on several hours of interrupted sleep. It’s not a complaint. It’s an acknowledgement. I know what I bought when I signed on the line.