(Warning: The following may be quite disturbing. One is alarmingly candid in the wee hours of the morning. Read at your own risk.)
Damned Insomnia I (from the journal of an insomniac, March 19, 2006, 2:00 a.m.)
2 am...Well, almost. And I cannot sleep. I fell deep asleep while I was cuddling sweet Kyle to sleep, at about 9:45. Then I wake up at 11:30 and here it is, two hours and a nice dose of Benadryl later and I got nothin'! I got up did the dishes in the dark, hoping the avoidance of bright light would increase the possibilities of slumber, but to no avail. The body is exhausted, but the mind will not rest.
Here's what keeping me up:
Is it my fault the favorite of our four cockatiels died last night (thus two nights battling insomnia--I could tell she was on her way out but was so tired I knew I didn't have it in me to mount a death watch--so I made her as comfortable as I could and petted her and told her what a good bird she had been and what a wonderful mamma, too. Then I made myself go to bed, only to lie awake feeling guilty I did not sit it out with her to the end)? Sometimes I am surprised God trusts someone like me with small children, but, thankfully, they tend to be more resilient than the number of pets we have had that eventually did not make it. Somehow I secretly worry that it's my fault because I do not devote the care and energy into the keeping of pets as does Martha's sweet, if not weird, Marc Marrone. I shouldn't be allowed to purchase or inherit anymore pets. (I know it's not my fault. I do take care of them--just not obsessively--but you know how it is, when you are on a full-tilt guilt ride nothing is exempt.)
Lorien, I am so sorry I never called back to hear if you found Maddy and Ashley. And you have always been so kind to mount search and rescue parties for my various lost children. I had good intentions, but I was on my way out the door when you called and the hour I planned to be gone paying all the overdue bills turned into 3 1/2. And by then I was so depressed about still being way behind in the area of finances that I forgot. I am a slug and I don't deserve you for a friend, but thanks for being mine anyway. (Of course by now I assume you have found them or I would've heard about it.) I am glad you found them.
(Note: Lorien did, of course, find the children. And she has forgiven me. She promised me therapy over my guilt issues at GNO, only I was unable to attend--for which I also feel guilty. Maybe this month?)
Damned Insomnia Round II (from the journal of an insomniac, April 13, 2006, 3:45 a.m.)
This time it's 3:30 a.m. I've been fighting it for over an hour and I give. It's not happening any time soon, but maybe if I let out a little of what's rolling through my head this time I can try again in an hour.
Here's what's keeping me up tonight:
How I can't wait to get back to the mall and buy two things: One, another pair of the great green (yes the coolest color of green--so-cool-I-have-nothing-else-to-wear-with-them green) capris I bought at Meier and Frank's new clearance center on the third floor. Forty-eight-dollar pants for a total of $9.05--and that was without the coupon I'm going to find and take in tomorrow when I buy another pair--this one a size smaller because I promise I really will go back to the gym and lose some weight this summer. Two, Bath & Body Work's entire supply of breathe at nights restful lavender and vanilla milk intense hydration body cream. Of course if the lavender were a bit more intense I'd be sleeping right now, but I still love this product. It's like a layer of silk on your hands. Or wherever else you put it. And it smells heavenly. If only it would help me sleep at night...
How I'm still a bit rifled at a cutting comment by MIL last weekend (blog forthcoming). Please, please, please, don't ever let me do that to my kids. Ever. Please toughen my skin so I can start letting comments like that roll right off--like acid off a duck's back. Please.
How I have way too much to do tomorrow between work and quilt class at 6:00. It was daunting before, but the thought of doing it while sleep deprived haunts me. It's becoming increasingly obvious that I will not have time to return to the mall. Please let those great capris and a year's supply of breathe still be there on Friday. Please.
How I'm a little nervous I may have ruined two of my children's remaining years at elementary school when I politely asked the principle to rein in the president of a certain parent organization and ask her not to use her title when she states her opinion on TV and in the newspaper as if she represents everyone in her uninformed and misguided views. She is certainly entitled to her opinion, but she should only use her title when she truly does represent all of us. I let it go the first time, but her comments the second time cut too deeply and I had to speak my piece. Am I a bad person?
Well, there are other, more serious items of business--including, yes, death and taxes--rolling around in there too, but I'm not feeling brave enough to tackle them publicly tonight. Is it too late to take Benadryl? Will another dose of lavender help? Tune in next time...for another episode of "As the Rest of the World Sleeps."
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4 comments:
1. We need to work on guilt therapy. Life is too short to feel guilty all the time. Definitely a Girls Night Out subject. Please save your next insomnia episode for GNO next week so you will be awake and can come.
2. (belated comfort) Birds die all the time. It's okay. I bet Martha kills off lots of pets--she just has money to buy new ones that look the very same to replace the dead ones.
3. As you already know, Mattie is fine and is actually learning to check in before leaving. Grounding is hell to that little socialite of mine.
4. Have faith in our principal. I'm sure you aren't the only parent who ever complained about anything, and you probably complained in the nicest way ever. And besides, that president of that certain organization was wrong (in so many ways) and we both know it.
5. If you don't get those pants, it's okay because this morning Katie Couric said capris are so 20 minutes ago. But I'm still wearing mine this summer anyway because I don't care and I like them and I hope yours are still there Friday.
6. Acid comments from a MIL? Nothing a good venting (or 2 or 3) won't take care of! Yet another plug for GNO.
7. Work? Just remember that you're intimidating to that one kid who feels the need to lord over you.
8. Lotion sounds good. I'll have to try it out.
9. Death and taxes: nothing much to say about this one. Happens to all of us, I guess.
Yes, we are sisters...
I haven't seen as long of a hyphenated sentence as "so-cool-I-have-nothing-else-to-wear-with-them" in a LONG time (and you know how I feel about the dash-mark).
I have learned how to deal with acid. I molt into a duck around MIL's.
Lavender (or Lavendar, as I like to spell it when I feel snarky) is my absolute-most-favorite smell EVER!!! The Carrabba's bathroom soap is Yardley Lavender liquid and is ONE reason of many why I'll be there for the 3rd time in a week tonight.
When planning on the recent add-a-puppy-or-2-to-our-family thing I realized that if I waited until my 6yr and 3yr olds are older (which most families do so the kids can be more responsible about caring for those pets) I decided now is perfect because then they'll die around high school age and I won't be stuck with animals at home to keep me from going on permanent vacation when they move out. Now that's pretty sad.
I love GNO's and would join you next week to teach my lesson on the Art of Acid and The MIL.
I've got some good news and some bad news. And since I'm a "bad news first" kind of girl:
Lorien--remember Lindsay's melt-down yesterday morning, in which I was quite calm and patient for the first 20 minutes but eventually I lost it too? I just realized this morning that I'd left the windows open through the night for the last two nights. I'm sure the Lindsays heard the entire bloody battle through our backyards. So now I'm a little nervous about having those sweet newlyweds moving in next door--what if we scare them away from ever procreating?
Here's the good news: She shoots. She scores! I dropped in for a quickie at the mall last night between my class and book club. This time around the capris totalled $8.56. Cool. And I got two more sample-size jars of breathe. (No way in this world I would buy the $18 jar, but the regularly $6 jars were 4/$10, so I did indulge myself.)
As for my rather long "stream-of-guiltiness" blog. Not to worry girls. It was really a matter of about half "just-let-this-all-out-because-what-else-does-one do-at-2:00-in-the-morning" and half "I'm-kind-of-having-fun-being-this-frank-and-I-should-be-embarassed-but-I'm-not-because-the-truth-is-I'm-not-the-only-woman-out-there-who-really-thinks-this-way-and-why-do-we-do-this-to-ourselves?" self-help therapy. (How'd you like that, Sis?)
I actually handled my MIL just the way I handle my mother when she attempts to toss me a super-sized serving of guilt. "Now, Agatha (not her real name), you know we were just here over Christmas." Calmly I refuse to play and I toss it right back. So what else can she say? The problem is the re-living of it is always worse than the actual experience because I usually indulge myself in getting a little steamed the second time around.
Oh--and one more thing. Something good did come out of the bird dying. I learned that the tin man really does have a heart.
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