Happy Feet Go to Sleep

We all have our own quirks. Things that friends and family associate with who we are. Our “isms”.

Sometimes these unique habits or actions are endearing and sometimes they are obnoxious but we can’t separate them from who we are any more than we can change the Earth’s course around the sun.

Here’s one of my ~isms:  In order to go to sleep I still need the sensation of being rocked. I think. Hear me out …

Growing up with siblings has its pros and cons. I am one of four children, one boy and three girls. My brother is the oldest. Then I have an older sister and then a younger sister.

My sisters and I shared a room, which is a really tight fit for three divas with enough attitude to fill a mansion full of rooms.

When we were little (before my baby sister was born) my older sister and I shared a double bed. To unwind at bedtime I would lie with my feet at the head of the bed and my head at the foot. I would put my feet on the wood paneled wall and tap out a beat. Of course, this annoyed my sister. She would tell me, “Knock it off. Put your feet down.”

I couldn’t … this ritual was comforting and soothing for me. I would fidget to empty my mind. And I thought she wasn’t being fair to me just as much as she thought I wasn’t being considerate to her.

To this day I still need to tap out a beat with my feet in order to fall asleep. Instead of putting my feet on the wall though, I rub them together. It’s comforting.

Now as I snuggle up with my dudes for bedtime, my youngest son does the same thing. In those moments the words of my sister fill my head, “I hate when you do that.”

My little guy just can’t get comfortable or settled until he’s effectively wiggled, giggled, rolled, and tossed. But sadly it annoys me to no end.

Last night was one of the worst. He couldn’t find the cool spot on the pillow. He burrowed under the covers to find the right position. Then he would give me the death choke hug around my neck. He also tried to sleep on me like a little cat. Oh and when none of those things worked he had to squeeze my ring finger.

Why is it that we are less tolerant when others exhibit the same behaviors we do?

I remember my sister telling me, “I wish you knew what it felt like to have to share a bed with someone like you.” Now I know.

Sorry Sis for my ticks that kept you up at night. And I’m sorry to my boy because you have the same ~ism. My prayer for you is that you’ll out grow it.

What about you? Care to share an ~ism, positive or annoying? Let me know what your quirks are … remember I’m the curious busybody.

 

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