dogtrot

I write about sleep a lot, largely because I don’t get enough of it. I now know this for a fact because the new, fancier Fitbit my daughter gave me tells me so. In fact, it tells me that I have not gotten eight hours of sleep in any night since Mother’s Day.

fitbit-sleep

The problem is that there’s not much to be done about this. When my Fitbit tells me that I need to get more steps, I can go for a walk. When it tells me that I woke 24 times last night, it’s not clear what I should do. Put the animals in the garage where I can’t hear their yelling? Train my husband not to wake me when he gets up in the middle of the night to go to work?

I even wake myself. I find myself thinking, when I rise out of sleep into consciousness for a moment thinking that I need to do something for a client or what have you, that this is count as “restless” in my Fitbit sleep record, and try hard to get back into a sound sleep as soon as possible.

Even so, I am lucky to hit seven hours.

Maybe I should turn off my Fitbit silent alarm and just sleep until I wake up. Or go to bed earlier. Or stop worrying about it.