I feel as though I'm invisible. It's really starting to get to me.

Did I say something wrong? I wonder. Do I not try hard enough? Try too hard? Perhaps I am too....something, and people who used to find me a novelty have now grown tired of listening to me. Maybe it's some inherent character flaw that I can't fix. I sincerely doubt that 75% of the people I know are jerks, so then that points the finger of blame back at me. Maybe I said too much, said too little, was too different, wasn't different enough. Or maybe I'm just boring. Bland and boring and mousy.

For whatever reason, I just get the feeling that people are ignoring me, whether by design or natural, subconscious impulse. They look in my direction but look through me, around me, over me. I feel like any little bit of presence I had anywhere is fading fast. I try to make myself known, to join conversations, and people just go right on as they were before, as though I haven't said a word. In turn, this makes me about a hundred times less likely to put forth any effort at all, and I fade away even more. Soon I might cease to exist at all. I'll be nothing but a whisper in the breeze....an old, faded, indistinct memory like the blurs in a photograph left in the sun too long. And no matter where I am I'll still be left wondering, what was it about me that was off-putting, or unlikable enough to repel people?

(Comments remain closed due to spammers, and because this is not a plea for people to give me pep talks or scrape up something complimentary to say about me. For those curious, this was not inspired by one particular group or faction of people but by an overall tone in various arenas of my life recently.)

I hate to complain (no, really, I do, despite all evidence to the contrary). But I've hit a lull here in Louisville and there's no denying it.

I've been having a hard time getting into the festival today. It's crowded, which isn't surprising. It's always way busier on Saturday and Sunday than the first two days. So it's not like I didn't know all these people would be here. That didn't stop me, however, from having a severe flare-up of misanthropy. Everyone is annoying me today. I hate the general public. They are a bunch of sheeplike, ignorant dolts. Now, I will say the people who come to this festival are slightly less offensive than the people you'd find at, say, the fair, or an amusement park. But there's still a damned lot of them and they are all getting on my nerves.

When I do venture downstairs, it's a major project. The elevator situation in this hotel is shocking. There are only four and they should have twice that many. It has been like this every time I've been here. At certain times of day people are waiting as much as fifteen minutes to find space on an elevator going up. There's really no excuse for it. I've never stayed in another hotel that has been this difficult to get around -- not even in Vegas. This afternoon I spent ten minutes getting downstairs only to realize I had left my admission wristband in the room and had to go through the entire process again. Ugh.

At the festival I have been having a hard time focusing today. I get down there and listen to a couple songs and then lose interest and start wandering. I haven't been too impressed with the bands I've heard today, either. I'm sure part of the problem is the crowd, which is distracting. Part of it may also be homesickness. I miss my kids, I guess. It's not so much I wish I were home as I wish they'd come with me -- which is INSANE because I sincerely doubt I'd be having any more fun if they were here. Talk about distracting!

Then, of course, there was the drama of yesterday, which sort of put a damper on my mood, figuratively, and a literal damper was put on last night when I got all ready and went downstairs only to find out it was pouring rain and the show I was going to see was called off. I also thought I'd feel better-rested, getting my first solid nights' sleeps since before Eliza was born, but I still feel just as tired as ever. On top of all this, I feel fat and sloppy and ugly....what that has to do with my enjoyment of concerts, I don't know, but there it is. I look pregnant and I'm afraid someone's going to ask me when I'm due, and I hate my new hair.

It also occurs to me that maybe the luster of coming on this particular trip alone has worn off. I would venture a guess that less than 2% of the attendees are here by themselves. Everyone seems to have either friends or family with them. Normally that wouldn't bother me. It hasn't in the past, and I sure don't mind doing most other stuff by myself. Perhaps, though, two times alone here was the most I could find enjoyable. I think this feeling is unique to this particular activity -- I don't think I've lost my enthusiasm for spending time alone; just for this one, specific thing.

So there's the happy report for today. Yikes. I'm going to hang out here for a couple of hours -- the next thing I wanted to see doesn't start until 8:30 -- and perhaps I will perk up a bit. If not tonight, then maybe by tomorrow morning. I would sure like to enjoy my last day here.

If you think I'm a complete boob for spending all this money on a trip and then complaining about it, it's probably warranted. Hopefully this is just an off day and I will be back in the swing of things tomorrow.

*Ahem*

I SAID "return and post comments on my offspring's stunning good looks."

Where's the love, people? Do you have any idea how I rely on email to fill my empty existence? (Kidding. Mostly.)

Most of the time I think I get along pretty well but occasionally I'll have a day, like today, when I just don't feel like dog-paddling any more. I'm TIRED. I was sick all last week, then got better, but today it seems like I might be having a bit of a relapse. I've been chilled all morning and I just feel like I'm dragging. I've got some aches and pains. I really hope that this is just a last-gasp from my previous illness and not that I've picked up something else while my immune system was weakened. I almost never get sick so this is really ticking me off. I guess it's a testament to what exhaustion and stress does to your body.

I would love nothing more than to do the afternoon school run and then hole up here for the rest of the day but I have already promised Madalyn she can go to her after-school club today, so that means picking her up from school at 3:30, dropping her off, then going back out to get her again at 5:30.

It's really tough not having anyone to whom I can hand off the baton, so to speak. If you're reading this and you don't think your husband helps out a whole lot, try having him gone for the week and see if you notice or not. I bet you'd feel a difference.

Hopefully before mid-year we will be able to find a solution to get Robert back with us full-time. That would be very, very good for all involved, I think. For now....Eliza has finally gone to sleep after messing around in there for twenty or thirty minutes, so I'm going to sign off and take this opportunity to curl up on the couch under a blanket and maybe get some rest.

No sick days.

I'm not at death's door or anything but I have a touch of the whatever-it-was that kept Madalyn out of school all last week. I know I'm running a bit of a fever and am having random, minor chills and aches. Was a bit dizzy earlier, which Madalyn tells me is standard for this particular illness. When I cough, my head hurts. I had a crummy night's sleep last night, not just because of the usual Eliza scenario but because I also kept waking up all sweaty, even though it was cold in the room.

Alas, there's no rest for the weary at our house. No one will be arriving to take over. I just have to keep on trucking. Blah.

Huh. I guess I don't really have a point. It's just a pain, is all.

Here I am, once again, on the eve of the end of a California trip which has gone by too fast. This has been just the kind of trip I hate. That's not to say I'm sorry we came or I didn't have fun, you understand. It's just that there are trips that seem "long enough" and are pretty relaxing and then there are hectic, rushed-feeling trips that are over in the blink of an eye, and this was one of those. Two weeks (a day shy of two, actually) is just not enough time to do everything, see everyone and also spend time relaxing. I looked at my mom tonight and said, "I feel like I've hardly been here" ('here' being sitting in the living room with her and my dad). It seems as though all we've done is run, run, run since we've been here, and yet I didn't get to see any of my friends even half as much as I'd like to have. So what on earth were we doing all this time? I sure wish I knew. And I wish I had another ten days here. I need at least three weeks in order to have time to spend with friends AND do activities AND still spend evenings hanging out with my parents and being mellow.

So, yeah, I'm taking it pretty hard, as I always do when I feel like the time has evaporated into thin air. By the last few days of my longer trips I am usually not anxious to get home but resigned to it, and wishing that, if I have to go, I can just get it over with. Not so for trips such as this one. The past few days I have been in a funk, digging in my heels and refusing to acknowledge that I have to go at all. I feel guilty, too, for not spending as much time with my parents. One of the main things I look forward to on my visits is sitting around, watching t.v. with them and I did almost none of that this time.

I think there's a good possibility I wouldn't be quite so crushed over leaving if I was going home to some sort of normalcy. But, no, I'm going back to no vehicle and no answers about said vehicle; to more wondering and worrying about whether it will ever be fixed, to Robert being gone most of the week again instead of being with us, to boredom and friendlessness and routine -- and not even a pleasant routine. Just dropping off and picking up and making meals and doing baths and laundry and overeating. Not looking forward to it, people; not looking forward to it at all.

If there's anything good to report it's that it won't be long before I see my folks again. I hope to get them out to our house for Spring Break in March, but if that doesn't happen I am going to try to get us out here again. At the very least I think they will visit sometime in the spring, even if it's not in March. And, of course, there will be a much longer trip in the summer. Surely I can get along until then.

I hate to have my first update in a while be such a downer but those are the breaks. It's what's going on with me right now, pleasant or not. I'm hoping to rally in a few days once I've gotten home and found some things to distract myself.

Any good thoughts would be appreciated for us as we travel home all day, Saturday the fourth.

Well, it's my birthday and, once again, it is shaping up to be a big bust.

I have always been a big birthday-celebrator. Over the past several years, though, I've been thwarted in my plans for my own natal day. A number of times Robert has had to spend the day working at one job or another. This year it looks like it will be no different. He was due back tomorrow afternoon but the guy covering all his stuff Friday pulled out today at the last minute and he likely won't be able to find anyone else which means he now won't be home until late Friday night (nearly two weeks since I last saw him, by the way).

I'm not excessively distraught or anything. It's gotten to a point now where it's almost humorous to sit back detachedly and see how the day will manage to end up a non-event in any given year. I am beginning to come to expect something to crop up and foil my plans so when Robert said he would be home for most of the day I took it with a healthy dose of skepticism.

I knew that a lot of people, as they age, place less importance on birthdays. However, I always thought that it was their choice. I didn't realize it might be everyone else facilitating it!

Madalyn's Open House at school is tomorrow so that (and cleaning my living room and kitchen) will be my birthday fun. I may take us all out to eat afterward. Or, I may not. In general I like solitude but there is something slightly pathetico about taking oneself to a birthday dinner which would be spent, like all other dinners, corralling unruly children and bolting my food so we can get out of there before someone breaks something.

Eh. So maybe I'm a little bummed. And jaded; don't forget jaded. Not to mention old.

How does she do it? And why?

Eliza went to sleep at about 8:45. It took me over an hour to get her to do so even though she'd not napped since 3 p.m. By the time I went to bed at 11:00 she'd been up at least three times. I thought I was doing so well, going to bed at a time that's pretty early for me. But she woke up as soon as I got comfortable and would not stay asleep in her crib. I would get her back to sleep with the pacifier but she'd wake up within ten or fifteen minutes. This went on till well after midnight, when I brought her into my bed. My memory is hazy after that but I think she slept a whopping hour-and-a-half and then woke up at 3:00.

It's now 4:48 and she's been awake ever since.

It's not just dozing off and then waking, either. It's complete and total wakefulness; "talking" and playing with her hands and rolling around as though it's noon and not 4 a.m. Sometimes she will grasp my arm or hand and look like she's trying to nod off but that lasts about two minutes and then she perks up again.

There is NO way to account for this. Things, ALL things, are exactly as they were last week when she was sleeping three hours at a time and only taking fifteen minutes to put to bed.

I am just so sick of this. I don't know how long I can continue to function. There is nothing I can do about it, either. I mean, just look at her pattern from last night. Going to bed earlier wouldn't even help me because she's up every thirty damned minutes.

I just want someone to tell me how it's medically possible for a five-month-old to get by on what probably equals five or six hours of sleep a night. She's going to have big, purple shadows under her eyes later on this morning and probably end up taking a three-hour nap, which is what she did yesterday. So if she's so tired then why the hell can't she sleep at night?? I simply do not understand what causes her to stay awake for hours in the middle of the night or why she can't manage more than an hour's sleep at a time. She MUST be tired. I think it's safe to say she's not some kind of superhuman who just doesn't need to sleep. So there is something that is making her behave like this. What is it, and why can't I figure it out?

I wish sleep wasn't so important. I feel like the world's biggest whiner for harping on and on about the subject. But consider that many not-so-nice military organizations have used sleep-deprivation as a means of torture and a way to "break" captives, and also consider that studies show that sleep-deprived people are as dangerous on the highway as drunk drivers. Our culture in this country looks down on the need for sleep as a weakness but the fact is it's a basic human necessity for sanity and health. That's why it's such a big deal. I'm not some spoiled, pampered princess who had a baby and is complaining about not getting nine solid hours. I am getting maybe five hours of sleep a night, if I'm lucky, and that is punctuated by wakings as often as every thirty minutes. NOT good. Right now I can barely type without reversing letters and skipping words and such. I only came out to the living room because I had no idea what else to do. Eliza wasn't crying; she was lying there playing with a blanket, so I left. It's now gone quiet in there so maybe she's gone back to sleep. I guess I should head back in. I've got a whole two hours before I have to be up to get the kids ready for school.

Insert clever parting statement here.

Can't....type.....baby.....trying.....to.....kill me........

Okay, I think I can marshal enough energy to complain for a few momentitos. So. After last night's entry Miss Eliza ended up waking a total of at least 10 times for the night. Then, to drive the final nail into my coffin, she awoke at 5 a.m. and refused to go back to sleep at all after that. *sigh*

On the positive side she's still really, really cute. It's a good thing, too, because that's all that's standing between her and eBay.

Folks, I am the very definition of torn.

All along I have planned to attend Abbey Road on the River (world's largest Beatles festival in Louisville, KY) and take Eliza with me. I have traveled, alone, with babies before so I didn't think it would be an issue. Now I'm having second (and third, and fourth) thoughts. I've even gone so far as to email the AROTR people to make sure the weekend pass (already purchased) can be returned for a full refund.

I had thought that I could get a sling and wear Eliza in it all weekend and everything would be hunky-dory. I'm not really sure that would work, though. She is still on a funky schedule; that is, NO schedule. I can't be sure what she will do from one day to the next. I have no reason to think she would sleep in the sling, so what am I supposed to do? Spend half the day in the hotel room while she naps? What good does that do? And what about nights? She is up every 2-3 hours to begin with and then starts giving me real trouble around 4 a.m. I am tired, people. T. I. R. E. D. I have no reason to expect her to change in the next 25 days. She might.....but she probably won't. Sure, we could sleep in like we do here at home sometimes but then I'm missing part of the day's events, which is the entire reason for me being there in the first place. Also it gives me some anxiety about whether we're disturbing the sleep of our hotel neighbors.

Plus there's the logistical aspect of it all. It's a big trip to make by myself with a newborn. Do I splurge and buy her a seat on the plane or do I hold her the entire way there, through two flights? How do I wrangle her car seat? Do I take the stroller, or do I assume I can wear her in the sling all weekend, even when walking downtown, and run the risk of getting there and finding out it kills my back? (By the way, I have purchased the sling but haven't figured out how to use it yet so I don't even know if she will tolerate it, let alone be happy spending an entire weekend in it. And she is not the type, so far, to sleep peacefully while out and about. She is the "cry lots till someone picks me up" type.)

In addition, I am having major guilt feelings about the expense. I just don't know that I want to spend all that money this year, especially when I want to turn right around and leave for California (MAJOR expense) just a month or so later.

So what to do.....what to do? I am so torn. On the one hand it would almost be a relief to decide not to go. On the other hand I enjoy it so much and I'd almost feel guilty for NOT going. However I also have to keep in mind that the fun I have had there the past two years has been without a baby in tow. There's just no way my experience would be the same this year as the previous two, and I can't see how it would be improved by having Eliza along. Robert is no help. I mentioned there was no guarantee Eliza would be doing better sleep-wise in another three weeks and his response was, "Well, she might!" So, yeah, not a lot of help coming from that quarter (not that he should be making the decision for me, anyway). I know that if I don't go when the weekend rolls around and I'm sitting here, knowing it's going on without me, I will be blue. But then I keep going back to the fact that I am putting it in the context of me being there, alone, having "me time" and that's just not how it would go this year. This year it might, quite possibly, be more work than fun, and why should I spend that much money for something that's going to be a lot of work? I could stay home and work for free.

I really don't know what to do. I change my mind every five minutes. Yesterday when Robert and I were discussing it, literally five minutes after the words "I don't think I'll go" came out of my mouth an episode of "Road Tasted" came on Food Network. Where were they? Louisville! So that started me thinking, "Hmm, is that a sign??" Then Eliza cries, or is up from 2 a.m. till 3:30 a.m., like she was this morning, and I go back to thinking, "Forget it! There's no way I'd have nearly as much fun as usual." Then the Beatles come on XM and I hear them and think, "But I HAVE TO go!" Which makes no sense. Nobody there is expecting me to show up. I haven't made any friends at the festival that I plan to see while there. The only person affected by my not going is myself. It's not like the Beatles, themselves, are there and expecting to see me. Perhaps that's part of why I'm waffling. Maybe I have a subconscious feeling that I will be somehow letting the boys down if I don't go. Of course that makes NO sense but it's sort of part of the curse of being overanalytical as I am. I guess I just feel like I hate to waste the opportunity. If I don't go this time it's another whole year before I can go again. I suppose to really decide I need to imagine myself doing all the things I do there only with a baby in tow. The problem is I don't know how to imagine her acting and that is a big factor in the decision. I honestly don't know what I could expect from her, behaviorally. She could enjoy being outside around all the people or we could get there and she could spend much of the time crying, leaving me perpetually nursing or, even worse, being confined to the room.

I don't know what I was thinking, trying to do this. It would've been much better if I'd just planned all along to skip it this year.

Eliza is not doing very well at night right now. She had a few decent nights in a row and I got excited that she was starting to establish a routine. But then, Saturday night, everything went downhill and has been horrible ever since. Basically we are talking up every 30-60 minutes all night long, with maybe a 90-minute block or two hours if I'm lucky. She's asleep right now (8:30 p.m.) and I'm stressing out over it because the more she sleeps now the less likely she is to sleep well tonight -- if there was any chance of that to begin with.

What's bumming me out is I want to enjoy my time with her right now. She won't be this little for long and it's my last shot. But I'm finding that, instead of snuggling in and relaxing, I am sitting here dreading tonight, instead. If she was sleeping decently at night I wouldn't begrudge her the sleep she's getting right now. I'd love to just settle in on the couch with some dessert and one of my t.v. shows and hold her while she snoozed. But it's hard for me to do that when I know what's coming later.

I think maybe if Eliza was my only child it wouldn't be so bad because I wouldn't have anything to do during the day but sleep when she slept and get caught up. But I have two other kids to take care of so I have to keep going and going whether I am exhausted or not. Heck, I think even if this was Friday or Saturday night and Robert was home I wouldn't be as stressed out because I'd have help and I wouldn't have anything looming over my head tomorrow. But my parents are leaving at 4 a.m. to head home and Robert is gone until tomorrow night so it's all me in the morning doing the entire pre-school routine, dropping off, picking up, then taking Madalyn to her first t-ball practice.

Bottom line, though, is that no matter what the following day holds, it is really difficult right now. I'm exhausted, sad about my parents leaving, sad about Robert going back to work and at a loss as to why Eliza's schedule is so backwards. I already do everything "they" say to help your baby get its days and nights sorted out. For all I know it could be something else; something I'm totally missing. And how long will it go on? That's what's eating at me. I know it won't go on forever but it could go on for months and months and I don't know how well I will hold up if that happens. After all the fuss about me wanting her to hurry up and get here I feel like a jerk complaining at all. I mean, it's not like I didn't know I was going to lose sleep after she got here. I just didn't expect quite this much upheaval. JZ was a lousy sleeper but even he was good for a few hours at a time. I am completely befuddled by this every 30-60 minutes business. The only thing I can hope is that she has been going through a growth spurt. Also in the days since things went bad she was nursing a ton during the daytime. Today, though, she seems to have cut back a little so maybe.....just maybe it was a growth spurt that is now winding down.

Whatever it is I just hope it passes quickly so I can enjoy my girl more. I want to enjoy this stage instead of hoping she'll hurry and grow past it.

I am a major animal lover. I think animals are wonderful and fascinating and, usually, adorable. I love going to the zoo or the aquarium, I can't watch the National Geographic channel because I can't stand to see animals being taken down by predators, I won't watch shows like "Meerkat Manor" because I'm afraid one of the meerkats will die and it will break my heart, and I think animal abusers should be abused in return for what they've done. By all rights I should be someone who loves having pets, right?

Wrong.

Imagine my feelings of confusion and guilt when I begun to realize recently that I am no longer interested in having pets -- the major problem being that we have two cats right now. I am not rushing them to the Pearly Gates but the fact is, when they are gone, I have no desire to replace them -- with anything. Not even a goldfish. Honestly, if I could find the cats a good home I would be willing to give them up. That's not going to happen, though. Because of being an animal lover my conscience won't allow me to just give them to whomever will take them. It would have to be someone who would care for them as scrupulously as I do and that's hard to find. Sometimes I think it would be easier if I were the type of person who could just drive them down to a shelter and drop them off. But, then, I wouldn't want to be the type of person who could do that and not be bothered. If I did something like that it would, no exaggeration, make me guilt-ridden for years or possibly for the rest of my life.

They are very nice cats. They do have a few behavioral quirks. These things can be inconvenient, at the best of times, but, right now, with me being exhausted and short-fused all the time they are magnified by a hundred. The cats get on my nerves a lot. I'd be perfectly happy if I didn't have to deal with them -- and yet my conscience won't allow me to do anything about it. If something bad happened to one of them today I would be heartbroken. That doesn't even make sense, does it?

I'm just tired, that's all. I'm tired of taking care of animals. I have had animals continuously for at least 17 years now. We slogged through all our years of major traveling having to make arrangements for the pets every single time we went somewhere. Then I'd spend the entire trip worrying that some tragedy would befall them while we were gone. We had thirteen guinea pigs at one time before Madalyn was born. 13 guinea pigs in 11 cages, y'all. Do you have ANY idea how long it takes to clean eleven guinea pig cages? Or even just four or five? And I did it every. single. week. for eight years, from the time we got our first gp till the time the last one passed away at the end of 2005. And do you know how many miles I logged driving them to the vet (a hundred miles away), how much money we spent on them when they were sick, how many hours I devoted to their nursing care? (You wouldn't believe it if I told you.) I've simply had it. I am tired of the work and I'm tired of caring so much. Robert occasionally makes noises about getting the kids a dog when they are older but we are going to have to have a real come-to-Jesus meeting about that because it's not going to happen. I just can't do it. I know who would end up doing all the work, all the cleaning up after and all the training, and for what? So I can spend every vacation for years worrying about it and then have my heart ripped out when it dies? No way. It's not fair to a dog to have its primary caregiver be a person who would really rather not have a pet and it's definitely not fair to me.

People predicted to me before Madalyn was born that I wouldn't care so much about my pets once I had kids -- as though the pets were a substitute for a child and I'd have no use for them once I had a real baby. Things DID change after I had kids but not in the way the naysayers were postulating. I don't care less about my pets' health and well-being, nor do I care less about animals in general. It's simply that I have so much more to handle now with the kids that taking care of animals seems like all work and no fun at all. THAT is why I am done having pets. It's not that I have relegated them to some sort of second-class citizenry just because I have something "better" to replace them. My children are expected to respect animals and treat them kindly; the cats have not become "just animals" who are here solely for the kids' amusement. I am very vigilant in seeing that the kids are being kind to the cats and treating them properly. I have been known to remind Madalyn on more than one occasion: "Those cats were here long before you!" So, while they may cause me some angst, they are definitely not ill-treated or neglected, nor ever will be.

So where does this leave me? Well, complaining in my blog, and that's about it. As I said, there's no way I'd ever find another home that I'd deem suitable enough for them, which would be the only option I'd consider for giving them away. Basically we are all stuck with one another. Hopefully once my physical and mental states are both back to normal I will be less aggravated by them and we can all coexist peacefully for as long as we have left together. However, hormones and exhaustion aside, it won't change the fact that I am ready to be pet-free (whenver that happens, and I'm not rushing it, so I would appreciate not having any nasty surprises from the cosmic universe. I've got enough on my plate right now without sick/injured pets).

I am tired. Tired tired tired tired tiredy tired. And again I say: TIRED.

The lack of quality sleep (I'm up every 1.5 to 2 hours now) combined with my body diverting most of its resources to gestating would be enough but I'm also now dealing with a doozy of a head cold (for which I can't take any medication outside of plain Tylenol. I'd give my left boob for some Dayquil right now). I have gone beyond the valley of the shadow of tiredness and have entered the land of mind-numbing exhaustion.

This morning I got a call about 10:20 from Madalyn's basketball coach asking if we were coming down for team pictures prior to the 11:00 game -- neither event about which I had any recollection at all. We missed pictures (they're rescheduled for Monday) but did manage to make the game, at least. I guess I can blame that partially on the fact that she hasn't had basketball, neither games nor practices, for two weeks due to weather so I'm kind of out of the habit. However, I'm quite sure it doesn't help my powers of recall that my head feels like it's stuffed with cotton balls.

And in fine illustration of my point, I realized this morning that I was having a hard time remembering a specific set of facts and keep having to look up the answer. I was going to mention them in this entry but have discovered that I have forgotten what facts it is I keep forgetting.

On the (totally unrelated) plus side, I can now announce that it appears John-Zachary is completely potty trained, knock wood. So if my memory doesn't improve some after the baby is born (and, let's face it, we know THAT isn't going to happen) at least I will only have one child in disposable undergarments to remember to attend to.

It's times like this I"m glad I have a blog.

I do censor myself somewhat on here. Some of it is organic -- there's stuff I just don't feel like writing about, or I realize I'm overreacting to something and that I will look like an ass later if I publish what I'm thinking just then. Some of it is in recognition of the many different types of people who read this blog. While I don't live my life based on what other people think about me that doesn't mean I care to grievously offend people, either.

Anyway, what all this boils down to is that sometimes there are things I want to whine about. A lot of times these things can be handled by my venting to my friends on the message boards I frequent. But there comes a certain point where either, a) I feel I've beaten a subject to death and no one wants to hear about it any more or, b) the subject matter is such that people might not be sympathetic or understanding (rightly or wrongly so).

For example, today's subject: I am so fricking-fracking sick of being pregnant. I am SO sick of it. And I feel badly about it, because I know a number of people online who would love, LOVE to be pregnant right now but can't -- either because it's not the right time or because it's downright impossible. So I do try to keep that in mind and not innundate my hangouts with constant complaints. That's when this blog comes in handy. Because, y'all --

I HAVE HAD IT!!!!

I have been sick now basically for the past six months. I have 11 weeks left to go and have no reason to think it's suddenly going to improve in that time. It's just demoralizing. Six months -- it's hard for me to even recall feeling normal, at this point. A good day for me now is only a mild flash of nausea here and there. Then we have days like today, with stomach pains and a generally unsettled feeling. I don't want to eat anything. Nothing sounds good. When I did eat yesterday I had half a chicken sandwich and half an order of fries and when I got home I felt like my stomach was going to explode. It was lovely. I was having shortness of breath and could not get comfortable to save my life. I'm just tired of it. If this is the cosmic universe's way of guaranteeing that I never want to have another baby, I get it! It worked! I am done! Giving me a break for the last 11 weeks really really will not make me change my mind, I swear. 11 weeks of normalcy would not be enough to negate 29 weeks of bummerosity in my mind. So whomever is in charge of this stuff, please get on this as soon as possible. I just want a little break -- because this flat-out sucks.

"Waaaaaaah!" pretty much sums things up for me right now. My parents, who have been here since Labor Day, will be heading out tomorrow before sun-up. And I? I am crashing, big-time.

This usually happens when they visit and often happens when I visit out there -- though it didn't this last trip. I felt so awful the entire time I was there I was thrilled to come home. It's always harder when they come here and then leave. Even though I haven't felt up to par most of the time they've been here and I've been pretty grouchy I still wish they didn't have to go.

The regret is setting in, too. I'm realizing (as happens every time) all the stuff we just didn't get around to doing. We always manage to miss doing some of the things I'd planned but even moreso this time because I haven't felt well. It's not that they expect to be entertained while they're here; this is all me. I like to make the most of visitors' time here and I feel like I've dropped the ball if all we've done is sit around the house every day.

Then there's also the regret for how I've been behaving while they've been here. I have NOT been a barrel of fun, I think. The combination of being off my medication and being sick all the time is not a good one for me. Like I said, I've been grouchy and irritable and lazy and I feel rotten about it. I'm really hoping that I'm in a better place, mentally and physically, when we go out there at Christmas because I feel like I've been a total $h*t the entire time they've been here.

So all this is enough to lay me low but then add to it that Robert has to go up to the panhandle tomorrow. He will also be leaving before sun-up and won't be back till 10 p.m. or later. Now, it IS only one day and normally it wouldn't faze me but when you add it onto the fact that it's the same day my parents are leaving and I'm already down about that it gets a lot worse than it really is. It also means I'm going to have to handle the whole morning routine, the school drop-offs and the pick-ups, and dinner and the bedtime routine by myself tomorrow. Yes, I'm a BIG FAT WUSS. But between R and then my parents I've been so spoiled recently I've barely had to lift a finger. And the thought of having to take all this responsibility tomorrow if I feel as crappy as I've felt the past two days is a bit demoralizing. Like I said: I = big fat wuss. Honestly, though, if I wasn't pg, or if I was feeling normal it wouldn't be an issue. I'm just wiped out, wrung out and beaten down by feeling like heck all the time.

My usual fix for a crash like this is to focus on things I have to look forward to on the horizon. I DO have some things.....and yet it's hard for me to be excited about them because, again, we're back to the "feeling awful" situation. There's stuff coming up that promises to be fun -- IF I am feeling well by the time they arrive. So, blah, I'm sorry, but I'm basically just one huge downer right now.

Have I mentioned how much help my parents have been? My mom has done so much for the kids and both parents did a whole handful of household repairs and such that I either didn't have the motivation or knowledge to do myself. My mom has bought us so much stuff since she's been here and the only reason my van isn't abandoned on the side of the road, out of gas, is because she bought me 3/4 of a tank last week. (We have been in sort of a tight few weeks because the money from R's new clientele won't kick in till the beginning of October and no other clients had paid him in a couple weeks.) I hate that they have to come here and do all this stuff but I'm very grateful and I hope they don't feel like they HAVE to do it. I could always use a little help but moreso now than any other time. They've been a godsend.

I suppose that will have to suffice for an update for now. Hopefully I will have a good day soon and feel like writing something a little more cheerful.

.....is this thing on?

Awfully quiet around here.

I was just browsing around here last night (yes, I browse my own blog. What's the problem?) and I realized that there are a number of entries that are, well, kind of.....good. I never think stuff is good, or funny, when I write it. I don't think it sucks, I just think it's average. But going back months or even years later and re-reading, well, some of it isn't half bad.

So, as pathetic as this sounds, I invite anyone to peruse my archives. See the little "Categories" menu over there on the left? Look for it....yeah, I mean you.....I know you aren't looking yet. I'll wait.

Okay, now that you've found it: if you pull down the little menu you can select any category in which I've placed entries. Scroll to the category you want to look at and it will jump you over to a page with all the entries on it and Bob's your uncle. Something to read on a rainy day -- or any other day.

Normally I am not big on the self-promotion. It's just that many of the entries got only one comment, or even no comments at all. So it makes me wonder if people just missed them altogether. I know people don't come here every day and sometimes when you don't visit a blog every day you miss stuff because it gets bumped down the page by the time you come around again. I would just like to know some people have read some of it, you know?

Oh, and feel free to comment, as well. I like getting comments and it wouldn't bother me to get some on stuff I wrote quite some time ago. Feedback is feedback.

Off to the theater this afternoon to take the kids to see "Over the Hedge." I have been eagerly anticipating this movie for months. I just bought our tickets online, which, AWESOME! and also it's totally worth the $3 service fee to know our seats are reserved. We still have to get there a little early or we might not be able to sit together but, hey, small price to pay to experience William Shatner as a scenery-chewing possum (that's a real case of miscasting there, let me tell you).

So, here's the deal. If there's anything anyone can say about me it's that I am honest when I write. I don't sugar-coat things and I don't go around trying to make people think things are wonderful when they aren't. That doesn't mean I print every single little irritation and stress I have; sometimes I don't talk about certain situations at all. But it's not for trying to hide it -- sometimes I just don't feel like hashing things out. Sometimes I do feel like laying it all out and this is one of those times.

I've decided that I need to go see a doctor and get on some anti-depressants.

I have been having issues with depression on and off for a number of years. The first really bad one I had was right after Madalyn was born. I am still convinced that particular episode was a side-effect of my thyroid which had gone raging out of control. However, I've had bouts with it since then and my thyroid is perfectly stable. Up till now I've managed to convince myself it's outside factors: stress from the money situation, being overweight, being far away from my family, not having a car and being confined to the house since last summer, etc. And, while I'm sure those factors contribute to stirring things up, the bottom line is that I probably have a chemical imbalance and need to be on medication.

When I'm depressed it's like a psychoses grab-bag. What symptom will she manifest this time? Fun for the whole family! Sometimes I do actually feel sad and depressed. Other times I don't feel particularly down but I lose interest in the things I normally enjoy and even getting showered and dressed and leaving the house seems like more trouble than it's worth. A lot of times I become truly, in my heart, convinced that my life completely sucks and there's nothing to look forward to. Still other times I get angry. I'm super-irritable and everyone annoys me and I'm in a perpetual bad mood and dislike everything. A combination of the latter symptoms is what I experienced Sunday night and most of the day Monday. Kids? Annoying me no matter what they did. Robert? Wanted to kill him. Upcoming plans? Didn't care; wasn't excited. Life? It sucked. It sucked and the future was bleak and I had nothing to look forward to. Even the Beatles couldn't reach me. They held no appeal. Now here is the part where I get really honest and where people who actually know me in real life get up and tiptoe away in horror. I was actually entertaining thoughts of picking up and going back to California. I didn't think I could live with the guilt of taking the kids away from their dad, though, not to mention not being able to support them, so my next thought was that the kids don't like me, anyway, so they'd probably be okay if I left them here with Robert. That's how convinced I was that my life stunk. I only thought about that for a little while -- ten minutes, maybe -- and then I did realize that I couldn't do that....but then I felt even more depressed because I had no way out. And it all seemed totally legitimate to me; there was no part of my mind that piped up, "Hey, you are being really melodramatic, here." That's the thing with it - when I'm in it it all seems completely rational.

This morning I woke up feeling a bunch better and it suddenly hit me: that is NOT normal. That's not just being in a bad mood. Maybe if it only happened once but I have been up and down with depression for years. Sometimes it only stays a day or two; other times it's months. And then it will go away for even up to a year and I think everything is peachy and then something like this happens. I'm just tired of it. I'm tired of not feeling normal.

And that's another thing -- I think I am at least slightly depressed a lot more of the time than I realize. I am a pretty irritable person and I think that could be mild depression that I'm just not recognizing. I am sick of yelling at the kids for stupid stuff and getting annoyed at them for things that needn't be annoying. My kids are great kids. They are very well-behaved about 80% of the time. Yet here I am getting irritated at things like Madalyn saying "I'm hungry" as soon as she walks in the door from school. Who does that? Who gets annoyed at their child for asking for a snack?

There have been a few times since Madalyn was born where, looking back, I now recognize I felt completely, 100% normal. It was sheer bliss. The first time was starting when she was 6 months old and I finally got my thyroid under control, which, in turn, made the depression disappear. I suddenly realized, looking back, just how bad off I'd been. I didn't realize it when I was in it -- like I said, it all seems perfectly rational while it's happening. I had just thought life sucked and there was nothing I could do about it. Then, to come out of that and feel, not ridiculously elated all the time, just NORMAL, was amazing. I want to feel like that again. I'm sick of the ups and downs and of trying to find things that will make me feel better and only do so temporarily (shopping, trips, etc.) I still want to do all those things but I don't want those things to be the only saving grace of my entire week, or month.

So there we have it. It's off to the doctor I go. I'm hoping a low dose of something with few side effects will do the trick for me. I am also hoping I can get in to see someone and get my prescription before I head to California. It would be very, very nice to be able to return from my trip and not have a post-trip crash like I often have had in the past.

Wish me luck.

I am going in-freaking-sane here.

It's not enough that I'm suffering post-Christmas letdown mingled with disappointment at my CA trip not happening and sprinkled liberally with stress about having to move. But I was just sitting here, thinking, and I realized I am not even sure when was the last time I left the house, save for a late-night drive-thru run. I am thinking it's been at least five days since I went anywhere properly. With Robert being so busy the past couple of weeks I have just been having him run errands for me because, by the time he gets home and I could have the car, everything is closed.

This is just so, SO not good, people. You are talking about a person that used to leave the house every single day. If I didn't have a legitimate reason for going out I would invent something. I'd go in person to a business to ask them a question when a phone call from home would've sufficed -- just for the sake of going somewhere. I used to get antsy and out-of-sorts if I hadn't left town in a month and now I am going days on end without even leaving the house, and when I do leave it's no further than Walmart or the church. And now I'm feeling like a caged lab rat; one who's been confined its entire life and is unaware there's a world outside the front door. That might be okay for some people but it is NOT okay for me. I don't like that I've started feeling like, when I do have the opportunity to go somewhere, that it's more trouble than it's worth and that I'd rather just skip it and stay home. For other people that is a personality trait (which I totally respect) but for me it indicates psychological issues, and I'm not kidding. I've taken to sleeping most of the afternoon away and that means one of only two things: I'm dying of some dread disease or I am having a rough time of it, mentally. The Crazy, it be setting in.

A car for me looms on the horizon but, realistically, is probably still a couple months off. I've just had it. This is such a pathetic (and embarrassing) situation to be in. Don't even get me started on how people who are way poorer than us, people who are on WELFARE have two cars, but we just can't seem to swing it. I have given up trying to understand. All I can do is try to continue to be patient and hope that, once I actually do get a vehicle, I will be able to recondition myself to being a part of the world and not just living inside my own head.

I am so tired of the screaming.

My rear end touches a chair and, within five minutes, someone is screaming and/or crying. Either it's a dispute over a toy, or someone wants something he/she can't get to, or John-Zachary has hurt himself....again. That child cannot go through a day without injuring himself at least every 90 minutes or so. Is it that boys play harder than girls? Or are they just more sensitive at this age? Madalyn never hurt herself -- or she never cried about it, if she did.

It's official; they've won. They've worn me down over the past three months and now I'm allowing things I wouldn't normally allow just to keep them quiet. School? It is needing to start....SOON.

It never ceases to amaze me how completely and utterly socially dysfunctional I am.

It seems as though at the advanced age of 30 (and three-quarters) I should be able to hold down a fairly lengthy conversation, or at least make a passable stab at it. But, no, unless you engage me about the Beatles, or California, pretty much all you're going to get out of me is a lot of head-bobbing and smiling and not much in the way of actual words.

I will meet someone in person and manage to force out, at the most, three sentences. And then I will go home and proceed to carry on a lively conversation with that same person via email or a message board. This seems slightly abnormal.

I don't really understand it, either, because, at any given time, I have 147 different things on my mind, 146 of which vanish completely from my brain as soon as a conversation is initiated. The one item I'm left with is usually something along the lines of "I like sandwiches" or "My feet are sweaty." It's like, one minute my brain is buzzing with the frenetic energy of Robin Williams mainlining espresso, then someone speaks to me and all of a sudden I'm Rainman. (But I'm an excellent driver.)

So, anyway, this is a shout-out to anyone who has tried to engage me in conversation and run headlong into a dead-end. It's nothing personal, honest. You may rest assured that I go home afterward and am kicking myself for the rest of the day for freezing up. Next time you have something to say to me, it would help immensely if you could email me a detailed outline of the topics you intend to cover, preferably three to five days before the actual conversation is to take place. I'm quite sure that if I have some sort of advance warning I can prepare a script that I can follow and appear darned near normal. Certainly that's not too much to ask, is it?

26 kindergarten/first-graders + me ÷ too little sleep = my life this week.

Yes, Vacation Bible School time is here. And somehow I find myself playing sheepdog to a flock of twenty-six unruly lambs who have attention spans only slightly longer than your average goldfish.

Ahh, motherhood.

Is it Friday yet? ;)

Dang....I seem to have run everybody off with my little non-posting spell, there. That sucks.

Tonight we went to a fundraising dinner for the benefit of our preschool. I walked in, took one look around, and realized, with horror, that I was pretty much the only mother who had not volunteered to help out. I was so embarrassed. I am, like, the worst stay-at-home mom ever. I don't cook, I don't clean house, I'm socially retarded and I can't even manage to remember to make it to two or three parent-teacher organization meetings a year. Criminy.

We did at least donate more than the amount they recommended for a family of four, so we aren't completely worthless. I will try to do better next time!

And, snap, just like that, the information I got a few days ago has been rescinded. "They" (whoever "they" may be) are now claiming Paul will be somewhere totally different on those days, Houston and Dallas are still up in the air....and STILL no official announcement on the tour schedule or when we might expect tickets to be on sale.

*Sigh* If it was anyone else, Paul, I'd have thrown up my hands in disgust and sworn off seeing them, just on principle!

I never thought I'd get less comments/traffic at my new place than I did at my old.

'Course if I actually wrote about something interesting that might help. Maybe inspiration will strike me today. Both kids will be at preschool till 3 -- woohoo!

There is something to be said for the people whose blogs I read who say their families and real-life friends know nothing about said blog.

I have always operated under the theory that I didn't have anything I wanted to write about that I didn't want people -- any people -- reading.

Lately, though, there have been a few things that I have really wanted to let loose on. We're talking insensible, ranting, Robert-Blake-talking-to-Barbara-Walters-type raving.

But don't have the freedom to do so because the contingent which aroused my ire also has knowledge of and free access to this blog.

It's not that I'm mad at specific people. There have just been some subjects near and dear to my heart that have come up and I have felt I needed to reign myself in a bit in discussing them. It would've been nice to have an outlet in which to say all the things I was thinking but kept to myself. But it definitely behooves me to keep my own counsel since I never know who might be reading.

Ah well, live and learn. I suppose I could always start another, non-publicized freak-out blog if I really feel the need to see stuff in print.