lurking in the kitchen
When watching TV as a little girl, the show often featured someone lurking around the kitchen making a sandwich or pulling out a piece of chocolate cake from the fridge in the middle of the night. Maybe it was Ma; pink fluffy robe, hair ruffled with rollers, sitting at the table with a glass of milk and a defeated expression. Or perhaps it’s Pa also in his jams-jams, most likely striped ones or light blue with house slippers on taking out the cold cuts, hoagie rolls, tomato, lettuce, and condiments.
I feel like I’m missing out on something. I’ve been an adult now for a long time and I’ve never done this, nor have I ever seen another adult partake in this middle of the night Tom Foolery. I really thought we might all be roaming around the kitchen at odd hours eating food from age 35 on.
Usually when I can’t sleep, I take something medicinal to help nudge me in the right direction, or I read, toss and turn, take deep breaths, or just freak out, but I’ve never meandered downstairs to the kitchen, made a snack, and then consumed it at the kitchen table. “Can’t sleep?” “Nope and that’s why I’m here in the dark ruminating and gnawing on a turkey leg.” However, turkey does contain that nutrient that helps you sleep so maybe it’s not a bad idea.
Anyway, I would be alarmed or convinced my husband had taken Ambien or something else munchie inducing if he wasn’t in bed, and I went downstairs to find him dressed like Mr. Brady eating a Sammie or cold lasagna.
When I was little and couldn’t sleep, mostly because it was too hot out but sometimes because I’m the youngest of four and didn’t want to miss anything exciting, my mom would take my bedsheets, cool and crisp, and lift them up and down, up and down, slowly letting them fall onto my warm skin like tissue paper cherry blossom petals floating to the ground.
My dad had a trick to get me to sleep too. He would cup his big warm hand over my forehead and ever so gently sweep his fingertips down to my chin. He would do this over and over again until I fell asleep. When I got older, I’d close my eyes pretending to be already sleeping because I loved hearing him say quietly to whomever was passing by, “It still works” or simply, “Magic.”
Flying up to Boston recently, I was thrilled when there were TVs on our plane. I found Inside Amy Schumer and quickly succumbed to fits of laughter. I know I could bring my own personal device to watch a program but I prefer the TVs.
One sketch was about a doctor at a sleep clinic getting frustrated at having to say the same thing over and over again to his patients. Exasperated, he steps into the waiting room and starts yelling, People we know what will help you sleep, get off of electronic devices two hours before bed. Everyone moans. Then, he’s like, Okay fine, an hour, 30, 15 minutes before bed. Everyone is pissed. One guy even punched a hole in the wall.
Sometimes when I go to bed now and can’t sleep, I conjure up the memories of what it felt like to be that little girl being taken care of. I close my eyes and feel my parents’ presence as it lulls me to sleep.
It's also a good reminder for me to put my phone in another room when I’m laying down with my sweet 7-year-old before bed. It’s so automatic for me to pick it up and before I even realize what I’m doing, I’ve watched another celebrity wash her face with age defying, peptide enhanced, non-drying, wrinkle erasing, pore shrinking cleanser.
Whatever your tactic for getting a good night of sleep…no caffeine after 12, dimming the lights hours before, lavender oil, a warm bath, yoga, may you rest peacefully. And may you wake up to sunshine and glimmers of goodness and joy. This morning, I woke up to a plethora of dog vomit before I had to get a root canal. But there’s always tomorrow! And leftovers in the fridge. Sweet dreams!