Faces and Keys and Emoticons, Oh My!

4 Feb

sleepOne of those days I guess, nothing extraordinary. Just one of those days when I feel a little more like everything that’s been happening in my life lately is real, and a little less like I am actually capable of dealing with it all.

Baby’s been restless all day and for the past couple of nights, and I haven’t been sleeping very well which usually plays a part in lower levels of optimism. Sleep is a tricky thing, it is. When Baby is tired, nothing will satisfy him. He’s hungry, but he won’t eat. He doesn’t want to play with anything, he doesn’t even want to be held. The only thing that will soothe him is if I somehow, miraculously, manage to put him down for a nap. As for me, when I’m over exhausted, I stop feeling tired. I actually feel like I could go on for hours and hours without calling it a day. But things seem more difficult than they usually are. I bump into furniture and hurt my pinky toe, or  drop a bottle of milk on the floor and feel like it’s the worst thing in the world that could have possibly happened to me. I’m more pessimistic about being able to move on with my life. I feel more angry at BD for having caused all this chaos. And I am personally offended by everything and anything, from people’s facial expressions, to text messages lacking punctuation and emoticons, from keys I can’t find, to pens that stop working, as if they are all conspiring against me in a grand scheme to make my life miserable.

I want to end this day, but it’s only 20:00 and I have finally put baby down for the night. It wasn’t easy. I have a TON of work that I’m behind on and have vowed that I would catch up on it today. I have to get at least one load of laundry done because Baby literally has no more clothes left to wear. I know you think I’m exaggerating but he’s really down to his last reasonable night time outfit, and last pair of socks. And I know he’s going to want his bottle at 23:00, so I might as well hang in there.

A book in bed? Yes, that would make me feel better, but I did mention that I have to get work done, didn’t I? Ahhh. I don’t wanna, I don’t wanna, I don’t wanna, and you can’t make me. I hate my body for having needs, for requiring food and sleep, for demanding warmth and attention and getting me all confused about a new guy and an old guy, for being so clumsy and dropping a box of oatmeal all over the floor and having to mop it up. Frankly, if I were my own mother, I’d take me in my arms, hold me tightly, and walk back and forth around the room, making shushing sounds, until I fell reluctantly asleep.  Instead, I’m going to start the laundry and stare at the computer for an hour, realizing that there’s no point in working today, and finally collapse on the sofa.


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