She was right.
And on more than one occasion.
But tonight/this morning I'm talking about when I was a teenager and we had the discussion of how late I could stay out and she made the comment that there's nothing worth doing that's going on after a certain hour of the night.
Which is why, though we were never given a curfew, we were expected to be responsible and be home at a reasonable hour, and also up in the morning at a reasonable hour, too.
Well, she was right.
I'm not sure what woke me up right at 3 a.m. but it's only minutes away from 4 a.m. and there is nothing worth doing that's going on right now.
I could get up and exercise myself into an achy, tired stupor until my body had no choice but to fall asleep, but then I'd most likely wake Ty up since I can't really go anywhere to exercise with my boy asleep here in the house.
I would read but that's a double-edged sword. I might get tired and go on to sleep if I start a book now, or I might get so into it that I finish it about the time my alarm goes off at 6:30.
And a little more sleep would be much nicer than finishing a book that I hadn't planned to start reading.
I could get on up and shower and start my day almost 3 hours earlier than I normally do (the snooze button is my friend). But that just doesn't even come close to appealing to me.
It's dark and warm and my bed is so comfy and snuggly and lovable.
Sleep is the problem.
For some reason, I'm tired enough, I just can't seem to slow my brain from wanting to go to sleep to the actual going to sleep.
Mama was sooooo right. There is NOTHING worth doing at this hour.