by Anna Kunnecke
We are so sleepy these days.
Even when we actually manage to all get to bed on time (which means all the three-year-old's needs have been wrangled, all sips of water delivered, all the last emails put to bed, all the laundry hung up) even then, it is hard to pry us out of bed in the morning.
All of us.
The two grownups in our household have two shrill alarms that we manage to ignore for scandalous amounts of time. And while my friends moan about how their kids wake them up at the crack of dawn, I have to drag my sleepy girl out of bed--literally gathering her floppy limbs in my arms and carrying her out of her room. Then we sit on the couch, yawning and cuddling, with her eyes buried in my robe "because Mama it's too bright for me."
I told her preschool teachers about the way we were coming to resemble a family of slugs, and they nodded and said, "Oh yes, that's because it's April." Only here is my top-secret theory: if it had been May, they would have said "Oh yes, that's because it's May." And they would have meant it. Every new month here seems to bring some set of mysterious seasonal symptoms that are unheard of in the west.
In the winter, naturally, children get colds, but apparently spring colds are just as notorious. The cold weather makes them lethargic, but then the summer days exhaust them. Even the gentle in-between weather, like we've been having lately (except for that one rogue snowstorm; that was hardly gentle weather), is blamed for all sorts of malaise: low appetite, poor sleep, general grumpiness.
I find this incredibly comforting. Even though I can't seem to nail down the rules of what sort of sub-par behavior is excusable in which months, I love the basic premise: that humans are not really creatures who can sail through the seasons, month in and month out, week after week, at full throttle. Believe me, it is hard for me to admit this. I myself enjoy full throttle very much.
But for a country famous for its workaholism, Japan also sanctions lots of restful moments: the snuggle under the kotatsu in winter, the sprawl under cherry blossoms in spring, the summer evenings spent prone on tatami mats, mid-day naps when the cold hits. Okay, maybe that's only four actual rests, lasting perhaps an hour each. But in between there is a great deal of allowance made for the ebb and flow of energies.
It feels like a very kind to our poor bodies. As an American I often feel so betrayed when my body breaks down: Allergies?! A cold?!?! How dare you!!!! Don't you know that we have THINGS to do??? Whereas here the whole country walks around wearing creepy white masks during allergy season and everyone asks sympathetically about each other's noses, and during the balmy weather no one thinks ill of each other for being pale and lethargic instead of springing about planning picnics.
So I have to admit that sometimes this concern for the body can taste just the tiniest bit of hypochondria. But who says that our relentless urge to be everlastingly bloomy healthy, to never falter or rest, isn't a sickness of its own? So right now perhaps we are simply cycling through seasons of quiet to balance out the go-go-go days. And in May? Ah, May. In May we shall be golden.
We are so sleepy these days.
Even when we actually manage to all get to bed on time (which means all the three-year-old's needs have been wrangled, all sips of water delivered, all the last emails put to bed, all the laundry hung up) even then, it is hard to pry us out of bed in the morning.
All of us.
The two grownups in our household have two shrill alarms that we manage to ignore for scandalous amounts of time. And while my friends moan about how their kids wake them up at the crack of dawn, I have to drag my sleepy girl out of bed--literally gathering her floppy limbs in my arms and carrying her out of her room. Then we sit on the couch, yawning and cuddling, with her eyes buried in my robe "because Mama it's too bright for me."
I told her preschool teachers about the way we were coming to resemble a family of slugs, and they nodded and said, "Oh yes, that's because it's April." Only here is my top-secret theory: if it had been May, they would have said "Oh yes, that's because it's May." And they would have meant it. Every new month here seems to bring some set of mysterious seasonal symptoms that are unheard of in the west.
In the winter, naturally, children get colds, but apparently spring colds are just as notorious. The cold weather makes them lethargic, but then the summer days exhaust them. Even the gentle in-between weather, like we've been having lately (except for that one rogue snowstorm; that was hardly gentle weather), is blamed for all sorts of malaise: low appetite, poor sleep, general grumpiness.
I find this incredibly comforting. Even though I can't seem to nail down the rules of what sort of sub-par behavior is excusable in which months, I love the basic premise: that humans are not really creatures who can sail through the seasons, month in and month out, week after week, at full throttle. Believe me, it is hard for me to admit this. I myself enjoy full throttle very much.
But for a country famous for its workaholism, Japan also sanctions lots of restful moments: the snuggle under the kotatsu in winter, the sprawl under cherry blossoms in spring, the summer evenings spent prone on tatami mats, mid-day naps when the cold hits. Okay, maybe that's only four actual rests, lasting perhaps an hour each. But in between there is a great deal of allowance made for the ebb and flow of energies.
It feels like a very kind to our poor bodies. As an American I often feel so betrayed when my body breaks down: Allergies?! A cold?!?! How dare you!!!! Don't you know that we have THINGS to do??? Whereas here the whole country walks around wearing creepy white masks during allergy season and everyone asks sympathetically about each other's noses, and during the balmy weather no one thinks ill of each other for being pale and lethargic instead of springing about planning picnics.
So I have to admit that sometimes this concern for the body can taste just the tiniest bit of hypochondria. But who says that our relentless urge to be everlastingly bloomy healthy, to never falter or rest, isn't a sickness of its own? So right now perhaps we are simply cycling through seasons of quiet to balance out the go-go-go days. And in May? Ah, May. In May we shall be golden.
I was so sleepy last week I spent nearly the entire thing in bed. The lights went out Sat around 5 and I just drifted off to sleep and didn't awaken till morning. Cancelled social engagements (the ones I went to, I later wished I wouldn't have).
I felt like I was drugged. May have been allergies - Texas is notorious for them and you could see the pollen floating in the air.
I tried desperately not to feel guilty and depressed about it. Not sure I was that effective at the non-guilt, but I drifted off to sleep quickly so as not to waste too much energy on it.