It's creeping up on 3:30 a.m. and it is by far my favorite time of day. Middle of the night. Is that truly a time of day? Or would that be classified as time of night?? I mean it is dark outside. There is not even a wisp of sunlight in the sky.
Ever wonder why I never accomplish anything...hint, hint, hint...it's the never ending Q&A session that occurs in my mind 24/7.
I can't sleep because my mind doesn't shut off.
I can't accomplish any task without getting hung up on a million questions as to am I doing this right?? Am I gonna like the end result?? Did I leave my flat iron on?? Oh, wait I've been wearing curly hair lately...crap...when did I shower last??
Do you see the perfect insanity that plagues me on a daily basis?? It's a wonder I remember underwear and shoes all in the same day and then manage to remember that these two items alone does not an outfit make.
I woke up today at the crack of 1pm to the shrill ringing of what was supposed to be my new BFF...the CrackBerry. After vaguely remembering what button to push in order to answer incoming calls (yes I realize it's shaped like a phone and green for GO, but when you're woken from a state of zomby euphoria these common sense rationales escape me) and then there was the voice of my youngest..."mom, did you forget to come pick me up??"
OH SHIT...what would be worse...admitting that I forgot to pick her up from the sleepover she was at -OR- forgetting she had actually gone to aforementioned sleep over altogether?? You choose.
I tried to sound breezy while I flung myself out of bed in 1.2 seconds and scrambled to pull curly hair into pony tail while simultaneously wiping the sleepy eye boogers out of my eyes that were still trying to will themselves into the awake position. I brushed my teeth as I hopped into shorts. I figured a bra was a good idea even though I was hastily pulling on one of my husbands shirts which can easily hide flailing breast that at times can look like a bizarre floation device.
The fact that I put on two matching flip flops at the same time as trying to tame the two wild beast that are my breast into their harnesses was a sheer feat of brilliance, if I do say so myself.
The greatest thing about depression...if there is a bright side to this dark hole...is that I wear pajama's ALL THE TIME.
It's a slightly less sexy version of Hugh Heffner and I don't have a team of blonde nimrods with amazing bodies to flock around me. Although if there are any hot men that would like to apply for this postion please note that I expect there to be sleeping when we sleep together. If I wanted to have sex I would work with what the good Lord and my marriage vows bestowed upon me. Also, if there are any hot men that want to just sleep with me...I'd like if you were also good with dogs because these bitches make ALOT of noise and probably need to be walked WAY more than my one time per day sleep jammed, feel sorry for me pity fest allows.
Yes ladies and gentleman I do realize that I am making myself out to sound like an emotional torturer of kids and dogs alike. Send the men with the white coats...a padded room sound like perfection right about this stage in my life.
But back to my day. I made it to the house that held the sleepover in less than 5 minutes from time that phone call of worried 9 yr old was received. Thank god we live in the same neighborhood because I really don't think I was fully awake and having to clear more than 2 stop signs would have been a challenge that I am not sure I would have been up to.
Of course my child was the last one there...CRAPY MOTHER OF THE YEAR titled is ALL locked up ladies, you can breath easy.
I strolled back to my friend, and crazy ass mother that decided 5 tween girls for a sleepover was a BRILLIANT idea, bedroom. I apologized for letting Han be the last one to leave. She asked what we had on our agenda for the day. Well, my social butterfly of a 9 yr old had been invited to a birthday party. She knew because her son and this child were in the same class. Her family would be taking their kids as well. Super. Great. Ha, ha, ha...breezy chatter about new CrackBerry...then she remarks she needs to get ready, take a shower and so forth...I ask when they are heading to the party...she comments that her son has already left. Stupidly I ask why.
She then alerts me to the fact that the party starts in under 15 minutes. FUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKK! What the shit...the procrastinator in me cannot catch a break?
I haul butt home, truthfully only stopping for one of the two stop signs and jump in the shower. I may not feel the need to smell okay for my own family, but making others suffer...well that is just wrong. See at least I have a minor shred of dignity left. Well this week at least. Check back later to see if I maintain that...I'd give 50/50 odd's on that one going by the wayside.
I was shocked at the fact that I showered and threw myself together and wrapped the gift that my husband had so brilliantly purchased earlier in the week. It was a vicious and loving strategy all in one simple act. He knew, from many years of experience, that I would A) wait until the last possible second and B) I would use ANY and ALL excuses possible to forgo party all together..especially if I could use the no gift as a reason. Damn depression was foiled again. Take that mental disorder.
Off we went to partake in cake and ice cream and a HUGE inflatable water slide that had broken bone written all over it. Within 2 hours I was the one being called to it's watery basin as my child sat wailing while holding her arm.
First thought...son of a...please don't let her have rebroken arm that she broke last year. (FYI: any teacher or school administrator that thinks taking entire 3rd class to a skating rink for an end of school year party is a FUCKING MORON)
Thankfully we were not in broken anything territory and instead she milked a bruise but I could tell her previous night of partying hard with her besties was wearing her thin and we were coming up on a full fledge meltdown. I tried to love on her. Negative. I tried to joke with her. Negative. Finally I tried bribery...BINGO! I encouraged her to pack up her stuff and we would bring one of her friends back to the house to hang out.
She caved but within 30 minutes of being home and proclaiming herself "all better" she and her friend were hinting...but not very subtly...that they wanted a sleepover.
Fine.
Whatever.
Once again we were hauling our kid off to someone elses house. Sometimes I wonder why my kids don't want to have their friends over here. Then I take a listen to our maniac dogs and review the mental catalog that is my emotional state at any given moment and I begin to see why they wounldn't want to be at home. Ever.
I made dinner for the remaining members that stayed in for the night and we settled in to watch a movie. About 30 minutes into the movie I was being beckoned to pick up Han. The meltdown that I had predicted earlier but that I had ignored at her pronouncing she felt "all better" had indeed happened and now she was crying and proclaiming a headache which was the tell tale sign that she was D-O-N-E and in desperate need of her bed and good night sleep.
Of course we couldn't just get her home and get her into bed. There had to be one more emotional showdown. Oh how I adore the pre-pubesent years. Shoot me now.
I may have believed that my first daughter was an emotional rollercoaster but she doesn't hold a candle to this one. I'm beginning to think I need to start crushing up Midol and putting it into her orange juice in the morning as a preemptive strike.
Finally her room fell quiet as the Tylenol kicked in for the headache she had from crying and the sheer exhaustion of the last couple days took ahold of her. Our movie ended and one by one the husband and then Liv made their way to bed.
And then it was just me. Well and Penny, my trusty late night companion.
I sit here thinking through the day. With all the questions that tick through my mind constantly. Consistently.
I sip on my Sleepy Time tea. What a joke...but damn if it isn't yummy. I sit here typing and thinking.
Thinking of the time when I would have counted this day as a good day. An eventful day. A normal day in the life of a mom and wife. The sliver of a sane person that remains in residence inside my body tries to rationalize that I just need to accept the goodness that comes out of the madness of not getting every single thing perfect.
I wonder why I can't accept my imperfections as others do of themselves. I contemplate why I feel a day spent sleeping ranks higher than the days I spend not doing all that I set out to do or stumbling with the things I do manage to accomplish, but are still filled with trying to find a median.
I can feel myself reeling through a million more questions...and then my process of questioning is broken by a large SMACK. I spin around in my chair to see that Penny has managed to fall off the couch while still wrapped up in a blanket.
She is flailing about like...well...like a dog wrapped up in a blanket that had been sleeping comfortably on the couch but that has now fallen to the floor. She finds her way out from inside the blanket. Shakes off the thud she has received and pops back up onto the couch. She leans over the side of the couch, grasp the corner of her blanket in her tiny mouth and pulls until there is just enough of it back on the cushion with her and curls back up inside it.
It is this moment of complete randomness that makes me realize sometimes you just gotta pick yourself up off the floor and get back on the couch. Maybe it's my new metaphor for life. As taught to me by my dog.
Or maybe it's just the universe and the Sleepy Time tea's way of telling me that I need to go to bed.
Yeah, yeah...I'm gonna go with the second one. It makes me sound less crazy. Please...woman listens to her dog to validate her life. Now that is a sure sign of insanity.
Another reason why the second one seems to be a better solution is because just a minute or so after getting the blanket back on the couch and nestling inside it she manages to fall off the couch inside the blanket once more. Only this time instead of picking herself and blanket back up off the floor she walks around the blanket as if to scold it for causing her downfall. Then peers at me before burrowing down under the blanket while it lays on the floor.
What's the lesson now Penny? If at first you don't succeed...sleep on the floor. Yep...that's my dog. That's my life. And that's my cue to call it a night and get some rest.
~JP
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