The one where I stumble around in the middle of the night
After a relaxing evening with friends and a foot soak, I came home and took extra Neurontin, my drug of choice when my neuropathy flares up. It is notorious for making me... ZZZZZZ
What was I saying?
Oh yes, it makes me sleepy but I figured that was just fine because I would be hitting the hay soon.
Lexi has been having a tough time at night, sleepwalking over the past few weeks. She ran into my door, and then pleaded to sleep with me because there was some strange noise in her room. By then the meds had kicked in and nothing was making sense so I fell out of bed and marched her back into her room. And I heard the shrill, mysterious sound. Now it was 1 am and I am crawling around her room, through the clothes we are sorting, by day, and I am confused and miserable, unsure where the racket is coming from.
I finally spied the Tamagotchi, dying its slow battery death. I tried picking the screw out with a hair barrette, unsuccessfully, and then decided to shove it in a drawer in the bathroom so we could all sleep again. Like when Phoebe threw the smoke alarm down the chute on Friends, only with prescription drugs in the mix and no laugh track.
It all seemed logical at the time.
+++++
I 'woke' up unrefreshed and out-of-sorts this morning. Greg is out of town and brought up the possibility of relocating again when we spoke on the phone last night. We are in the last weeks of summer break, and I am feeling like I have come up short, that we just didn't get everything in yet I am exhausted. That I want to fit more in with my kids, but they are starting to really get on my nerves. (And they literally hurt anyway.) And feeling irritated, and restless, and groggy, Mother Guilt perches on my shoulder - the kind I rally against and find useless but feel anyway.
Soon Greg will be home and I always feel better when he is around. I will jot down my to do lists for PTA and the mom's community I am mentoring at church. I will label school supplies, and finish up my book. I'll shake this lousy mood.
Until then I will be gritting my teeth and saying a little prayer, waiting to close a day that has overstayed its welcome.
What was I saying?
Oh yes, it makes me sleepy but I figured that was just fine because I would be hitting the hay soon.
Lexi has been having a tough time at night, sleepwalking over the past few weeks. She ran into my door, and then pleaded to sleep with me because there was some strange noise in her room. By then the meds had kicked in and nothing was making sense so I fell out of bed and marched her back into her room. And I heard the shrill, mysterious sound. Now it was 1 am and I am crawling around her room, through the clothes we are sorting, by day, and I am confused and miserable, unsure where the racket is coming from.
I finally spied the Tamagotchi, dying its slow battery death. I tried picking the screw out with a hair barrette, unsuccessfully, and then decided to shove it in a drawer in the bathroom so we could all sleep again. Like when Phoebe threw the smoke alarm down the chute on Friends, only with prescription drugs in the mix and no laugh track.
It all seemed logical at the time.
+++++
I 'woke' up unrefreshed and out-of-sorts this morning. Greg is out of town and brought up the possibility of relocating again when we spoke on the phone last night. We are in the last weeks of summer break, and I am feeling like I have come up short, that we just didn't get everything in yet I am exhausted. That I want to fit more in with my kids, but they are starting to really get on my nerves. (And they literally hurt anyway.) And feeling irritated, and restless, and groggy, Mother Guilt perches on my shoulder - the kind I rally against and find useless but feel anyway.
Soon Greg will be home and I always feel better when he is around. I will jot down my to do lists for PTA and the mom's community I am mentoring at church. I will label school supplies, and finish up my book. I'll shake this lousy mood.
Until then I will be gritting my teeth and saying a little prayer, waiting to close a day that has overstayed its welcome.
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