I think they missed the point

Maybe it’s because I only got three hours of sleep last night.

Maybe it’s because Seth is hell bent on breaking down his bedroom door when he should be sleeping.

Maybe it’s because I’m just so over the storylines on The Young and the Restless.

But I’m pretty certain that what what pushed me over the edge today was the third comment that a reader came back to leave on Sunday’s post.

Seriously. I get it.  You’re a fan.  Good for you.

But do you really think that it’s constructive or beneficial to take a post that I wrote about why You’re Not Shaken is speaking to me and continuously use it to shamelessly promote the artist?  The post was NOT ABOUT HIM.  It was about me, and my son, and where I’m at in my faith right now.

So, please.  Do not come back and leave any more links or comments or opinions about how great you think the artist in question is, okay?

I have always been able to survive – crazed toddler underfoot or not – on  just a couple hours of sleep, but for some reason, Seth’s middle-of-the-night playdate from Tuesday is kicking my butt today, and it has my brain so skewed that I’m in the midst of a pretty happenin’ pity party.

So bear with me, as I dump all the “woe is me feelings” into this blog post in an attempt to get them out of my system and not heap them all on top of Jim’s head when he walks through the door.  (After all, he’ll be carrying my Quizno’s salad, so I wouldn’t want to startle him or anything.)

Ready?  Let’s go.

1) the “p.han.”  I’ve already addressed that.

2) the midnight play date.  I can’t even begin to describe how frustrated this made me.  Now, I know for all my mommy friends who haven’t been blessed with a great sleeper like Seth, you’re thinking “oh, get over it.  It’s one night.”  And you’re right.  But you have to understand that when you have a child who has slept 12+ hours a night since they were an infant, on the rare nights when they DO wake – it’s horrendous trying to get them back to sleep because (a) they truly believe it’s time to get up, and (b) you as the parent don’t have practiced coping mechanism, so you’re totally at a loss as to what to do.

Even as I crawled back into bed after each trip into Seth’s room, I was plagued with thoughts of how the next day would be: if he is awake for three hours now, will he sleep in for three hours?  wake up at 8 am as usual, and then take multiple naps?  not nap at all, and wear his exhausted mommy into the ground?  (If you’re wondering, he’s going with option 3 – no nap and driving me to tears.)

3) Until Jim sent me the following text message, he was in the dog house with me (I’ll explain why in a minute).  But getting the offer of takeout for dinner in connection with this message helped:

RAWR  -- means “I love you” in dinosaur!  rawr, rawr, rawr, rawr

Good thing for him that was clever and cute, because I had decided I was mad at him.   I was frustrated that he seems to be able to sleep through Seth’s crying – even when Seth is specifically crying for Jim – in the night; I felt slighted that he either doesn’t like or hasn’t noticed the little additions I’ve made to our home in the last couple days (separate post and pictures to come); I couldn’t remember if he thanked me/commented on the fact that I’ve made homemade dinner (including baking bread) the last two nights, and since I couldn’t remember, it was easier to assume he hadn’t.

I know, not really fair, right?  I know.  But I’m human.  And probably hormonal.  And it probably didn’t help that (I’m pretty sure that) I forgot to take my blood pressure medication and my Prozac yesterday.  Oops.

4) Jim and I were going to take a last minute trip to Pensacola this weekend and into the beginning of next week to visit some friends and to get away while Jim is off work.  Unfortunately, that ended up not working out for our hostesses.  Which is fine, because they are coming up here to visit in mid-August.  Which would be great …. if we were going to be here that weekend.  But we’re not.  Because we’re going to be in Ohio for the annual salmon fishing trip.  The fishing trip that isn’t supposed to be in August, but rather, in September.  But we moved it up because I was supposed to be having a baby.

But now, I’m not having a baby; turns out, the fishing trip was moved up for no reason; and it now interrupts a visit I will desperately need; and what that all translates to is that it is all messed up and not the way I want it.

I want Duncan.  I want to still be healthily pregnant.   I want to be able to hang around my online chat room with my best girls without feeling horrible jealous because they are getting pregnant.  I want to be ANYWHERE else on Friday than the maternal fetal medicine specialist’s office getting Duncan’s pathology report.  I want the hydrocortisone cream I put on the bug bite on the back of my thigh to start working against the itch.  I want to have unlimited funds to jet off to Maryland, and Texas, and Oregon, and Ohio whenever I want just to hang out with my girlfriends.

I want a lot of things that seem really out of reach right now.

And I want to find a clever way to wrap up this post, but I’m too tired.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz