Circadian rhythms out of whack

 

Sophie daytime sleeper,
nighttime playgirl.

Sophie and I have many disagreements, but the latest is about to drive me bananas. Our circadian rhythms, those cycles by which our body tells us when to eat and sleep, are definitely not in agreement, and as a result bedtime around here bears a lot of resemblance to trying to get a reluctant toddler to bed and asleep. It’s gotten worse since I’ve been under the weather.

Sophie likes to play outside at night. As a helicopter dog owner, I will not go to bed and leave her in the back year without supervision. My kids think I’m imagining things, but I know that dog theft, though not common, does happen. So if she’s outside, I’m up. Ideally, that would mean that if I’m ready for bed, she’s inside. But it doesn’t work that way.

Two nights ago, she “had” to go out twice after I closed down the cottage and got in bed. How do you question a dog who acts desperate, even though she was just our twenty minutes earlier? What I think happened was that coughing spells on my part disturbed her sleep. Her reaction was not, “Mom doesn’t feel well. I’ll comfort her.” No, it was more along the lines of, “What an awful noise. I believe I’d like to go outside now.” Being dragged out of bed twice is bad enough but at least then she came right away when I offered a treat.

Last night, we started the bedtime process at ten-thirty. I finally went to sleep at one-thirty. Some of that was again my fault—a bathroom trip, a coughing spell, etc. But a little before one, she “had” to go out. Once her business was done, she proceeded to lie on the deck, stare at me (insolently, I swear), and ignore my offers of a treat, which usually brings her scrambling. It’s no wonder I slept till almost nine-thirty this morning. Still that sleep was broken by feeding her at five and letting her out at seven, when she again decided she preferred lying on the deck and watching me flip out.

And mostly she sleeps soundly all morning, while I’m up and working. We’ll work this out, and it may get better once this cold goes away. Dogs are sensitive to the way we feel, but this is not the reaction I expected from this spoiled girl.

Meanwhile, I’ve disrupted my own rhythms, mostly out of sheer determination. Morning has always been my best time. I used to say if it doesn’t get written by about two in the afternoon, it doesn’t get written that day. But now, for the days when I kept longing to go back to bed, I’d get going for the second or third try about four in the afternoon, determined to meet my word goal for that day. I’m so close to the end of something that will be titled Irene Deep in Texas Trouble that I can’t bear to miss a day of work. My goal is to finish the first draft by Christmas. So far, I’m okay with this schedule, which usually finds me having completed my day’s chores by ten o’clock. But then it’s time to start the bedtime ritual again!

This afternoon I watched in fascination as it rained leaves. There seemed only a slight, occasional breeze, but the leaves fell one after the other all over the yard. One of the two driveway oaks which are such a problem—growing into the driveway—is the most beautiful yellow gold! The one behind it, closer to me, is the deep red that has blanketed the yard.

Now, as I write, I hear thunder rumbling. That may well change Sophie’s nighttime agenda because she prefers to be inside and next to me when it thunders. We’ve had enough rain and damp leaves on the patio that Jordan thinks she sees mold out there. Not sure what to do about that.

Happy dreary, rainy Saturday night.