I had insomnia in college. Once I had my first kid, though, the idea of not sleeping when I had the chance was entirely ludicrous. As the parade o'kidlets continued, I was grateful to report to all and sundry that I got at least 8 hours a night, no problem. Until this year, when my old pal Insomnia came back with a vengeance, dropping in each morning at 3 and keeping me company through the wee smalls. I counted sheep. I made lists. I read the entire Anne of Green Gables series. I played Words With Friends with my peeps in other timezones. I cleaned toilets. I tweezed my eyebrows (a bad idea at 4 AM). Finally, I gave up and took two Benadryls, and slept through the night.
Problem solved? Probably not. Crisis averted? You betcha.