After the storm...

The sun shining down on a white, white world
Blinding in her brilliance, sparking in her glory
Crisp air wakes the senses, skin feels alive
The deep blue of the sky marred not by the clouds
Mother Nature's reward for some harrowing days
Dark skies, dangerous streets, homebound people
But even that can not last forever
Today brings the silver lining

Mother in the Morning

Morning stretched across the world
The sound of sweetness outside my door
A smile shines up to light my heart
A smile that I am living for
These moments serve to warm my soul
To see him takes my breath away
This reason to get out of bed
A new adventure every day
"Hello, my love" I whisper down
And though he can not yet reply
There is a silent understanding
Between this Boy and I
He's lifted up, the day begins
And I am someone new
Upon cloud nine I see it all
This bright, amazing view

Tales From A Sleepless Bed

I did all of the things I was told, but sleep still eluded me.

I am 31 years old, and I have had trouble sleeping since I left my teens. Before that, I was a typical teen- if sleeping had been an Olympic sport, I would have been the Michel Phelps of slumber. I had always been a night owl, but when I laid down, I went to sleep.

The sleeplessness eventually became so bad, I want to a clinic to have a sleep study done. This means submitting to having wires, probes, and straps strung about your body in order to record your brain waves, your leg twitches, your breathing. And after they string you up, they plop you into an unfamiliar room. "Okay", they say casually. "Night!".

It took me 45 minutes of laying in the dark to drift into the lightest of slumbers, and I felt a bit of injustice- Sunny von Bulow would have had trouble falling asleep under such circumstances! A few days later, a doctor sat down with me and showed me a bunch of lines and waves that represented my sleep patterns, or lack thereof. He sent me home, armed with a bunch of techniques that were supposed to help me practice better "sleep hygiene".

Sleep hygiene? Um, doctor, excuse me, but you're speaking to a girl who washes her feet off before she goes to bed, lest any stray foot funk acquired from wearing flip flops rub off on my sheets. Wait, that's not what it means? Ohhh.......

When I got married, I was determined to make our bedroom a sanctuary of restful repletion. No television. Good, quality bedclothes. A clock radio that acted not only as an alarm clock, but provided soothing sounds such as "rain forest" and "thunderstorm". Firm, comfy pillows designed for side sleepers (which I am). No cell phones near the bed, and no laptops in the room at all! I would say that it worked for my husband, but I can also say that he could fallen asleep on the same raft Elian Gonzales cruised into Miami on. My husband sleeps just fine.

I on the other hand, have found myself awake long after the light has been turned off, long after the 60 minute timer providing the "summer evening" sounds has timed out. I bring myself to bed exhausted, and somehow become as fully awake as ever as soon as I try to close my eyes.

God knows I try. I try counting, meditation, visualization techniques. But my mind drifts:

Sixty-seven...sixty eight...sixty-nine...

..heh heh...sixty-nine...

...I bet Bob would think that's funny...

...I haven't seen Bob in a while...

...and I'm off. My brain is like a hamster wheel with a cute, hyperactive rodent running, running running.

So, I lie awake, night after night, my thoughts crowding me out of my own bed.

PJ

Who stole into our lives one night
And left a gift for us?
Greater then any gift we have ever known-
A blessing of no compare.
A moment when there was nothing, then-
Something!
This new life created from our own!
We gaze upon his precious face,
Delight to hear his every sound!
Whatever goals have been replaced
With the single desire to care for him.
No task to great, no chore too much,
We bow to the call of this sweet one's soul.
A son...
We have a son!

The Birth of a Dream

Dreaming of a gentle breath
The weight of love inside my soul
To come to me on angels feet
Before my body gets too old
The oldest version of "new math"
When one plus one somehow makes three
And from our lives there comes one more
A better version of you and me
So for tonight, the next, beyond
Behind closed eyes, my heart has smiled
While in my sleep I dream about
The day that I will meet my child

Angry Girl

From deep within, I feel the rise
Of rage, although I know not why.
For no good reason the beast within me speaks.
Try as I might to calm it down
Reason just cannot be found.
And fighting it will only leave me weak.
I swear that I will not give in.
I lamely fight but just can't win,
And find myself a person quite unknown.
See that girl with all those flaws?
Striking out and showing claws-
Shamed at her behavior to the bone.
Look kindly on the Angry Girl,
As her emotions come unfurled
And she slowly falls apart before your eyes.
Her walls go up, so be prepared.
In her anger, he soul is bared.
So hold her, though she pushes while she cries.

Not sure what I'm trying to say...

Complacency is a disease
It eats away at your insides
Until you think that just okay is...okay.
Putting fourth the minimum output
Becomes your mode of survival
You tell yourself you're trying hard
But just under the surface you know
That the shorter the climb the softer the fall
You can get back up and dust yourself off
If you trip and fall to the ground
But that is too easy
You must be willing to put yourself together
When you shatter after a slip from the heights