Whacked Clock

My internal clock is whacked right now. For the past month or so I’ve been falling asleep at eight in the evening. It would be six-thirty or seven if I let myself. I can barely fix dinner and watch one episode of CSI before I’m nodding off. It’s embarrassing! I’ve always been a freakish morning person but I could usually manage to stay up until at least nine-thirty. Now, as soon as the sun goes down, I’m longing for my cozy night gown and my soft bed. Seven minutes after my head hits the pillow, I’m asleep like a rock.

Then mysteriously at three in the morning, I wake up as if it was the beginning of a new day. My eyes are so wide open they bug right out of my head. I used to fight it. I’d lie in bed, trying to be as still as possible for hours. It was miserable. Every bone in my body ached and no matter how much I tossed and turned I couldn’t get back to sleep. Now I get up. I have a bowl of cereal and start my day. There’s no use fighting it. I still get my required seven hours of sleep.

I’m just a freak.

I’m hoping it’s just my body getting ready for a baby. I really hope my new schedule meshes with her’s.