“Sleep is Over-rated,” said the Goose

I’m sure you remember that old saying, “She slept like a baby.” Mother Goose never understood that phrase, because none of her babies ever slept. Whilst most of my friends had their newborns trained to sleep through the night by nine days out of the womb, none of the babies of Mother Goose slept through the night until they were about nine years old.

In our family, sleep in an unnecessary commodity. Perhaps a luxury we could never afford. Maybe just plain over-rated.

So our babies would rather hang out with Mother Goose and snuggle in the rocking chair and drink sweet milkie than go to sleep in their beds. And to this very day, Mother Goose still does not sleep much at night. I doze deeply between 9 p.m. and midnight — after midnight, it’s mostly just a series of naps until the alarm gently nudges me at 5:30 or the dog cries to go outside or the birdies sing their pre-dawn finch reveille.

Of course, the husband of Mother Goose sleeps VERY well. He spends the night in a many-hued land of dreams — he alternates between snoring and chuckling in his sleep. We sleep at opposite ends of the bed to accommodate my claustrophobia and need for fresh nightly air. His toes wiggle just twelve inches from the face of Mother Goose, whilst my large rubbery goose feet stretch to infinity and beyond in our “California King-sized bed”. Sometimes just having some air and a nice stretch is all I need — who really needs sleep anyway…

To each his own, as my dear mother would say…

Perhaps it is a case of screwy genetics. Mom never slept much at night either — she did some of her best baking between the hours of 2 a.m. and 6 a.m. We’d often awake to the aroma of bread, steaming berry pies and chocolate cakes — is there anything better to sniff from the comfort of your warm cozy bed?

The dad of the goose also sleeps very lightly during the night. Of course, he’s awake and worried about stuff, and not in the kitchen with an apron on.

The brother of the goose seems to be following the same path — watching a good movie in the middle of the night with his pup is good family time for them. He’s just a small little pup who loves to cuddle with his pa and ma, just like a little baby really.

Snuggle time…

The sister of Mother Goose has had such trouble sleeping that she recently made a reservation at a sleep clinic to try to determine the reason for her nightly insomnia. They hooked her up to so many monitors with wires and suction cups. They placed a face mask over her nose and mouth. They told her “good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite” and then left the room and watched her toss back and forth for hours. They would not allow her to get up and drink a cup of coffee to relax — they refused her a midnight smoke break. Apparently, it was a very tiring experience for her…

Are you relaxed and comfortable yet, Bunn?

Last night, Mother Goose spent hours considering the clouds moving past the moon — seen through my sky-light window, the moon travels at a quick pace of two inches per hour. I listened as police sirens screamed through the still night air, praying for the people in need of a cop and an ambulance. I pondered the cost of my daughter’s schooling to acquire her Master’s Degree at the University of Illinois at Chicago. I tried to figure out Aunt Charlotte getting thyroid cancer and her inability to swallow or breathe and wondered how her night was going… I prayed for the safety of my sailor sons in New York. I begged God’s provision to the people who’ve lost so much in the hurricane. I remembered all the other people who were awake at such an ungodly hour of the day, and wished them a good night.

And as I was gently going off to slumberland, the alarm on my phone sang me a happy song announcing that it was morning at last.

And that’s [yawn….] why Mother Goose [yawn….] thinks that sleep is [yawn….] so over-rated.