Sleep my child and peace attend thee.....

I used to consider myself a good sleeper. I worked hard all day and fell into bed exhausted at the end of a busy day. I'd get up to pee sometime in the middle of the night, do my business and then go right back to dreamland.

I considered my blissful slumber proof of a healthy mind and body.

And I totally took it for granted.

I don't sleep so well anymore. When I do, I have nightmares (so wild and crazy that recounting them to the blogosphere would probably have any readers deeming me a whack job).

I also have middle of the night anxiety.

That script, described, would also bring into question my sanity, or lack of.

"Is American Idol on for one hour or two tonight? Is that a bug on the rug? My God this blanket is hot. I hope Bear ate dinner tonight. Did I just hear the doorbell? What effect, if any, will global warming have on fish flies? Did Daddio just skip a breath?

Last night I had none of those thoughts. I remember staggering to the bathroom, and not looking at the clock.

And before that I remember talking to Daddio. I was laying, mummified and speaking like a drunk in a stupor. "Bear is depressed" I remember saying "he hates his life."

Daddio sprung from our bed and into his son's room to inquire about his mental health.

He told me this morning his son calmed his fears when he answered "Huh? Mom is nuts, I'm not depressed!"

Daddio also told me that as I slept I looked just like one of the Ninja Turtles (as in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles...not a nice image, I might add)...mouth wide open, buck teeth over exposed.

I can handle that...a small price to pay for that kind of sleep.

I woke up this morning refreshed.

And horrified....I'd slept in my clothes.

For the record...pajamas may be overrated.