Sleepless Night Hits High Gear

Last night was one of those nights.
I couldn't sleep. My mind was entered in the Indianapolis 500 of bedtime. It was racing down the road of wakefulness, making pit stops at any and every possible line of thought.
When this occurs, I completely exhaust one subject before the wheels of the cerebral cavity peel out and are off to a new one. One thought leads to another.
I could be in bed thinking that tomorrow I'm going to the library
but realize that first I have to find the books. Then I think, a page in
one book got ripped. I'll have to repair it first.
I wonder if we have any tape. Probably not any that I can find. I
can never find anything when I need it. I still haven't found a nail clippers, and the boys' fingernails are filthy.
And their hair is so long. I've got to get them in to have haircuts. I wonder if long hair on boys will come back in style?
I wonder if I should let my hair grow long. I saw someone in a movie with a hairdo I liked. I also liked an outfit the movie star was wearing. I'd like to find one similar to it but in a different color. Periodically there's a lull on the midnight run when I look at the clock, shudder, flip over on my other side, kick a leg out from under the covers and flop it on top of the quilt, grab my hair at the roots with one hand and drop the other arm across my forehead, all the while muttering, "I've got to get some sleep or tomorrow I'll be as useful as an abandoned and cracked-up stock car." This lecture to myself doesn't do any good, other than to give the computer disc of the mind another file to call up and inventory.
Usually the thoughts of the night aren't useful for any purpose other than keeping me awake. One night I spent what seemed like hours mentally remodeling and reorganizing a department store in Walworth, WI. Although I have absolutely nothing to do with the store except to occasionally shop there when I visit Wisconsin, that night I felt compelled to revamp the business.
When I finished, I had mentally spent thousands of dollars facelifting the exterior of the building and showcasing the store's interior.
I had arranged a gigantic sidewalk sale to eliminate all their existing merchandise, and hired a new team of buyers and sent them off to buy new merchandise at what I considered more with-it clothing markets.
This scenario unfolded as my late night scanner was reviewing all the bargains I had ever purchased, and I was wondering why no one ever wore the bathing suit I bought at that store's "buy one at regular price and get the second one for a dollar" sale.
Most of my wheel-spinning is not so imaginative. Lots of it is an express train through my finances, about the lots of money I spend and lots of money I need to pay lots of my bills. Or even more frequently, my wakefulness is a roller coaster ride covering the ups and downs of child rearing.
As tiring as a night of mental road running is, it is even worse when one of my children has this problem, because none of them will want to be alone. Usually I'll be comfortably knocked out with not a dream in my head when I sense someone entering my sleep zone.
“Mom, Mom," the voice says. I'm dreaming, I tell myself. I'm not going to move and it will be over.
It isn't. A hand is felt tapping on my shoulder. "Mom, I can't sleep," the voice that goes with that hand says to me.
"Go back to your room and count sheep," I tell the voice.
"I tried doing that. I counted to the highest number I know andI'm still awake."
The child continues, "I keep thinking what it would be like to have dinosaurs as next-door neighbors. Would we play with their kid dinosaurs and would they go to school with us?"
"Probably you'd do both," I mumble. "Go back to bed."
Just as I'm sinking blissfully back into a deep sleep, the tapping hand is back. "Mom, I still can't sleep. I keep wondering if for my birthday we could get a space shuttle launch pad built in the backyard."
"Your birthday is not for five months," I answer. "Go back to bed and say the rosary."
Usually this works, but it is too late because now I'm awake and thinking,
"What would it be like to have dinosaurs for neighbors?"
September 14, 1988