Today I feel like this:
I'm the orange guy. And the pink one, too. (from here)
Disclaimer: Lest someone think that I am some ungrateful hag, allow me to point you to the explosion of happiness that has invaded my posts lately. I don't even recognize this blog with all its recent annoying happiness.
But now it's time for something completely different.
I have insomnia. It's just a thing with me, apparently. I had the most godawful insomnia (about 20 weeks worth) when I was pregnant with Charlie. I thought I'd gotten lucky this time, because I made it through the first trimester without the horrible sleep issues. The second trimester rolled around, which apparently cued the insomnia. So let's see, I'm 23 weeks pregnant. That means I've been dealing with awful, stupid, mega soul-sucking insomnia for at least 8 weeks. But more like 10.
It's a good thing that such a thing as naptime exists. What sucks, though, is that I am apparently co-dependent and can't sleep without Roy anymore. My last two successful naps were when he was at home one weekend, napping in bed next to me.
But now things have progressed to the point where I can't sleep with him, either. It feels like this is way too early for this to be happening already, but I am really uncomfortable in bed now. I just can't find a position that works for me. So last night Roy slept on the floor. I got a five hour stretch of sleep, which is the best I've done in quite awhile.
But today I was still so exhausted that I could barely think. And then it was like a world of shit exploded on me. I got an email letting me know that my credit limit on one of my cards has been decreased because the payment is late - for the first time EVER. I decided to take a nice relaxing bath during Charlie's afternoon nap, and the shower curtain rod collapsed on me. Roy came home from work and told me that his car needs about $350 worth of work done to it, in addition to the $200 worth that my car needs.
We decided that we needed to get out of the house, so we hopped in the car to take Charlie to the park to do his 13 month photos. But I was hungry. So we drove around aimlessly, while I talked about all the food that Texas has and that California is sorely lacking. I was in the middle of telling Roy about a memory I had associated with Sonic Drive-In when we heard the alarming sound of Charlie gagging in the backseat. We took a quick, fervent look, and there he was with his whole hand in his mouth making himself gag. He did this off and on the whole drive home. (Little bulimic baby.) I never did get to finish telling Roy about how I used to get paid every week back in my freshman year of college, and one of the first things I would do was go to KMart and buy a carton of cigarettes. Then I would go to Sonic Drive-In and order a cheeseburger and some chili-cheese tater tots and a big ol' cherry limeade. I sure did enjoy my vices. I didn't have a lot of money back then either, but I had the luxury of time. And the freedom to sleep in every weekend and go shopping when I wanted. Ahh, to be 18 again.
So we got home and I put Charlie in his highchair. Our planned dinner had not thawed out completely, so I gave him some cheese melted on bread, along with some milk and Cheerios, and called it done. Meanwhile, Kerwin threw up three times, which is always a wonderful thing for a pregnant woman to witness. And now Charlie has been in his crib for the last hour, and he's still rolling around, wide awake. I have no idea what Roy or I are going to eat for dinner, but I am in such a state of insanity right now that I may just eat a whole carton of ice cream.
More than anything right now, I want to walk into a bar, order a beer, and sit and listen to some live music. I hate beer, and I'm not a bar person, but I feel so trapped right now that all I can do is laugh about it. Just laugh at the absurdity that is being broke, being a parent, being pregnant, being so fucking tired that my eyes might fall out of my head and roll down the street. I imagine that the one simple act of drinking a beer will make me feel human again. Maybe take away some of the desperation.
This week I read The Hours for the third or fourth time. (I was actually on the verge of finishing it when the shower curtain rod collapsed on me earlier today.) I think it's a brilliant and heartbreaking book, but this time reading it felt like a completely different experience. I was struck by each woman's deep desire to make herself believe that she was enough, that her life was enough, that what she was doing with her time was enough; each of them, desperate in her own way.
I feel desperate sometimes. Like I'm trying to convince myself that this life is enough. That it's okay that I've had to clean Charlie's highchair five times today and now there is food all over the floor. That it's okay that I suspect I may never sleep through the night again. That I may never amount to anything other than some frumpy mom, that my education might go to waste as I pop out another kid and perhaps end up depressed again because kids, while they make life so wonderful, also make it so. damn. difficult. I love being a mom; I really feel that it's the best thing I've ever done; but each and every cell of my body is tired. I need a vacation that we cannot afford; I need a beer that I cannot drink; and I need a good night's sleep like I have never needed anything before.
More than anything, I just need to keep it all in perspective, knowing that this is one day out of many, that the bills will get paid (maybe not always on time), that I will sleep again, and that I won't always feel this desperate. Some day I won't have to convince myself that I am enough. I will just know it.