Insomnia

Day two of still appreciating my life and my work. Imagine that. The effects of that novel are lasting longer than I expected...of course, I'm still in the process of reading it.

Because of the bad economy, Clinton has been stuck working the graveyard shift for the last several months. I don't mind so much, because it pretty much feels the same as him working the day shift: he sleeps while I'm at work, and he's up and ready to go by the time I get home. Plus, both he and I are just so incredibly blessed that we still have our jobs. My school district laid off 181-and-a-half teachers at the end of the 08/09 school year (yeah, I don't get the "half" either), and I still remember that feeling of holding my breath, wondering if I was going to receive one of those dreaded pink slips. I remember all of us teachers running to our boxes the day they were issued. I remember the feeling of joy when my box was empty, followed shortly after with a sinking feeling of dismay when I realized two of my really good friends at work received a pink slip. All of us teachers wore pink that Friday to express our support for all the teachers who were laid off (my school site had eight total), and we even marched during a "Pink Rally" to try to raise public awareness of the budget crisis in California's education.

Clint's work, likewise, has also had many cuts. Luckily he doesn't work the type of job where strong attachments to fellow employees form (at the railroad they pretty much work with different people every day), but the many lay-offs have resulted in a shrinking bubble around him, and has left him with the lousy graveyard shift.

Again, I'm just grateful that he still has a job, but the problem is that I'm discovering that I can not sleep at night without Clint being home. I don't have an independent bone in my body and I am SO paranoid. Every little noise makes me jump...the fridge can't even come on without me going into defense mode. I've tried everything to sleep better. I sleep with a 9 mm every night, and that definitely helps. I don't keep it under my pillow, because it creates a hard uncomfortable lump, and plus I'm not entirely comfortable with the idea of an explosive device right under my head. So I keep it under Clint's pillow, next to me, with the strap of the holster left unbuttoned for quick access. But the problem is that the kids sleep on the opposite end of the house, and I'm constantly worried about them. I mean, that's great that I'm armed, but what if some predator broke into my house and went to their side of the house? So I've tried moving the kids into my room (yes, I realize I'm sucking them into my unhealthy paranoia), but let's face it--it's impossible to get even ten minutes of sleep with a nine-year-old and a five-year-old. That strategy only lasted a few days. Next I tried sleeping with my giant dog. This actually works pretty well except for Moses is still technically a puppy, so by 2 or 3 a.m. he has to go potty. And his way of letting me know is by slapping his huge paw on my bed over and over again and growling (a cute frustrated growl, not a mean growl). It just doesn't make for a very restful night. I could use sleeping pills, but I won't for two reasons: 1. I don't like to take anything that my body risks becoming dependent on, and 2. I refuse to knock myself out when I am soley responsible for the kids.

So I don't know what to do. I'm hoping Moses' bladder grows bigger soon so he can stay in the house longer, but I have a feeling that even when he can sleep in the house full-time, I will still find reasons to be paranoid.