Skip to main content

5/60 Just Go to Bed


(Our hike on Saturday . . . and how we ended up after arriving back home--we hiked like crazy people up and ran our little fanny's off down . . . and that is why I am so sore and happy and sleepy)





When asked to give Newlyweds advice, mine is always this:  If you find yourself in a bit of a disagreement late into the night, JUST GO TO BED.  It will, I promise, be better in the morning.

I got lots of the exact opposite advice when we first got married:  Never, ever go to be angry.

It turns out, at least for us, 99.99999% of the reason we are angry/frustrated/hurt at each other is because we are bone weary.  We can't see straight.  So if it's past 10pm when we start into a "discussion" as we like to call it in our house (which have been known to rattle the window pains), we just say, We will finish this in the morning.  John goes to bed and I go into the study and cry for about ten minutes until he comes and finds me and pulls me off the couch and into his arms and tucks me into my side of the bed.  He won't say anything.  He just hugs me and we both go to sleep.

And 100% the time, we never continue our "discussion" in the morning.  We wake up and apologize to each other and talk about how silly it was that we even had our disagreement.

I'm not saying we have smooth sailing all the time (there are plenty of "discussions" that go on in the middle of the day), but I'm saying that you should always rule in the fact that tired/stressed/worried is making a literal mountain out of a tiny mole hill.

This goes for pretty much everything in your life.  If you think everything looks bad at night.  It does, but the adage that everything looks better in the morning . . . it's 100% true.

After a week of too little sleep, I am telling myself right now, Just Go to Bed.

And so I am.

Goodnight, Fair Friends.  Sleep tight.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Best Kind of Tired

  My often daily life . . . (John is two feet away—I can’t do all of them by myself) Last week, every single time I sat down, I almost instantly fell asleep.  I kept telling John, I have the sleeping disease.  What is going on?  Am I getting old?  Is it the covid after effects?  What on earth? He didn’t have any answers for me because he was doing the same thing.   We didn’t really do anything for seven days straights.   And our kids joined us in the sleepy, do nothing, lazy slug bug state. It wasn’t until this morning as I was looking over the pictures of the summer that I realized why. . . We literally haven’t stopped ALL summer long—one awesome amazing trip/visit/fun after the other.  It’s like we are making up for last years “staycations.”  Holy hannah have we ever made up for it.  Just about did ourselves in playing and hugging and kissing and caring for babies. Highlights of the summer (in no particular order): Cousin sleepovers have resumed (most missed activity since the pandem

oh how things change

It's amazing how having a big old stressers changes everything.  Things you thought were super important seem so silly and things I took for granted seem so precious and important.  I feel like I've been blind, and now I see. I was listening to one of my friends talk about weight loss and how to get her extra five pounds off and how often she things about it.  I looked down at my belly and thought, I can't remember the last time I even thought about my body or my wrinkles or my sagging places.  With a whole new set of much more pressing worries, physical appearance has gone out the window.  Not completely, of course; I still want to be look my best, but my best has changed.  My best is smiling.  My best is a good day where I can easily smile and laugh.  My best is a daily prayer of gratitude that we've gone another day healthy and well. Today, that changed.  Finn's been complaining of a pain in his leg since May and for about a week, he walked with a limp.  We had h

Forced Frugality

  We are going on ten months of looking for a job.   Last September, after a rather horrid ten months, John got the boot.  It was oddly and rather unfairly done, but a great relief to all of us.  Working at that company had become a puzzle that grew harder and harder each day until it was in fact, impossible.  The stress of it took a wild toll on John's mental and physical health.  By the end, he was neither eating nor sleeping.  He had strange episodes of racing heart and an inability to tell what was real and what was imagined.  I sat him down and told him I would use up every penny of our retirement and sell the house if it meant he could stop working in that environment.  And it may take all that.  And I still won't regret it.   When I feel rather sorry for myself, I remember what life was like for him a year ago and then I don't feel sad that I am once again digging through my closet to find a new way to wear old things.   In fact, there is part of me (small though it