My subconcious is screaming......

I am supposed to be sleeping.  Actually in approximately 26 minutes I am supposed to be getting a text message from some friends that will prompt me to throw on gym clothes and shimmy my fat and tired ass on down to the gym for some cardio.  Unfortunately for them and my ass...I will not be in attendance.  Judging by the sound of the torrential rain outside I am beginning to think that they may not be there either.  But back to the real reason why I am writing this.  For the past week I have been having this completely realistic and unbelievably horrifying dream that I am drowning.  Here's the hitch...there's no water.  None.  Not one single solitary drop.  Also for the last week I have been back to work. 

Coincidence?

Yeah...I think not.

I don't get it.  I wanted to go back to work.  I needed to go back to work.  My sanity needed me to go back to work.  My bank account REALLY needed me to go back to work.  I went back to work and BOOM dreams of drowning in no friggin water.

I had weathered horrible interviews and kiss off emails.  No dreams of drowning then. 

I get two simultaneous interviews for two seemingly great companies and it's like a battle ensues for who will be lucky enough to be my employer, if there is such a thing and NOW I'm having nightmares about drowning.  Where were the goddamn nightmares when I had no job.  Not even a prospect of a job. 

Or where were the nightmares back when I had the job that lumped the biggest weight of stress I've had put on me since Jon and I seperated.  Where o where were the nightmares then?  Oh, wait...I remember...I silenced those nightmares with mass amounts of sleeping medication.  Nevermind.

Ugh.  I cannot believe that this is happening.  I mean I CAN believe that this is happening because this is SO the kind of THING that happens to me on a continual basis. 

I tried to talk to Jon when this one hit tonight.  It was by far the worse of the 7 that I have now had.  After patting my arm and muttering, "it okay...it a dream" I began to hear his steady snore again and realized he had figured that he'd done enough to soothe my fears and he was going back to sleep. 

That was an hour ago.

I laid in the bed for another 30 minutes sobbing until I felt the need for a tissue because I was getting grossed out by Penny trying to be the doggie version.  I'm all for giving my dog a kiss or letting her lick my face.  But I have to draw the line at her trying to slurp boogers from my nose.  That just crosses some kind of line. 

My subconcious and my gut are telling me that this job is not the place for me.  I keep trying to convince myself it is because A) it's been almost 3 months since I was cleared to go back to working full time B) I really miss having some kind of job and C) I'm pretty sure Jon is gonna either drop dead or kill me if I don't start working on a regular basis to ease up the financial stress.  I've always listened to that voice inside me.  Not just the ones inside my head that say, "eat chocolate" or "go ahead have another glass of wine"...I'm talking about the ones that say, "this doesn't feel right"...the ones deep in my gut and my subconcious.  The ones that seem to guide me towards the things I need to be doing and away from the things that I shouldn't be doing. 

I've been trying to shush them these last few years.  I shushed them when my marriage fell apart and they told me to run the other way and don't ever look back.  I shushed them when I insisted on returning to my last job even when my body and my doctor were saying NOT a good idea.  And now I think I've got them good and pissed because for the last week they have been getting increasingly louder in regards to this job. 

More and more I find myself shying away from what seems like the right choice and going for the one that makes others happy.  Sometimes I wonder when will it be my turn to make choices for the betterment of myself again and not for everyone else. 

Maybe it's the exhaustion...or the sound of the rain....or the quieting of the voices that seem pacified for being listened to for the moment...but I am suddenly very sleepy and hoping that I will get a bit of rest.  Rest without the feeling of drowning.  Rest so that I can hopefully think more clearly.  Rest that will most likely allow me to make a decision to sink or to swim.

~JP

Penny's Thought of the Day...

Thank god she is so damn cute or her attitude on how I'm dealing with sleeplessness over being her doggie nurse made would really piss me off! 

Penny's progress....

We have seamlessly rolled into day #4 of Penny's recovery. 

I say seamlessly because I haven't slept for more than 30 minutes at any one stretch of time since Wednesday morning when I was able to bring her home from the vet. 

Some people think I am crazy for doing this.  They tell me, "she's just a dog".  But for me...for our family, she is NOT just a dog.  She is a family member.  While I will never deem her a replacement for the loss of my other red min pin Prince Aden Michael of the Dell, she has filled a gap in my aching heart.  Aden sat next to me through a lot of hard times.  Those dark patches in my marriage, the moments when depression took a deep hold of me and I wanted no human contact.  He would sit next to me and give me love...no matter what.

When we were given the sweet gift of Penny I began to feel myself smile again.  Jon and the girls saw it too.  So when this all took place late Monday night and Jon was put in the position of breathing life back into her very lifeless body I made a silent promise that if she lived I would do whatever it took to get her better.

Yes...ladies and gentleman...I am C-R-A-Z-Y! 

So I have spent the past 3 days tending to every need of this four legged baby of mine.  She is finally able to get up and around.  I've gone from being covered in vomit, piss and crap to being able to understand her lame attempts to cue me that she needs to go make a piddle.

She's very wobbly at best and as soon as I step away from her, even if it is just to situate myself on the floor or grass next to her, she struggles desperately to get back to me.  She has made several failed attempts to try and get a jump going.  I'd rather her not jump but she's got a mind of her own.

The spasms are still happening ever couple of minutes but are getting less violent.  Last night she actually got out an audible bark.  Her first vocalization since the accident Monday night.  The steroids are beefing her up which is nice since she usually looms at a petite 5 1/2lbs.  The medicine also makes her sleepy.  You'd think that would be a great thing for me and give me a chance to sleep.  Uh...no...she only likes to sleep when she is firmly planted on my chest.  While I was a pro to sleeping like that with my newborns or even young children...I am not able to balance a wriggly dog. 

The vet says that we need to be very careful of not letting her bump or bang her head since that is where the brunt of the force hit and he fears a hemorrhage although things looked clear on the x-rays.  Our main focus is keeping her as calm and bump free until we go for her check up on Wednesday.

It's tiring trying to keep a very spirited pup immobile.  I'm downing caffeine like a regular fiend.  But all in all I am hanging on and hanging in.  It will all be well worth it when I hear her barking and see her able to hold herself up without wobbling and falling over.  The things you'll do for mans....ergh, make that my best friend!

~JP

The Philosophy of Penny

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