Sleep Sucking Death

This is why I haven't been blogging. I am tired, and tired-brain equals stupid brain... and annoyingly, pathetically WHINY brain. I get started with a post and I cannot get farther than two sentences because I want to put myself in time out, I am SOOOOO wah-wah-wah-everything-sucks-I-need-sleep. Only I really just want to punch myself in the face... but we are trying to use our words and our problem solving skills aren't we?

Which is funny, because I never mind it when I read other people's blogs about the sleep deprivation. Maybe it because I have to hear my own unfiltered whining in my self-pitying brain rather than experience it in it's cleaned up format on a blog. Maybe it's because of that funny thing about how even when your own life sucks, you wouldn't trade with anyone else... 'cause you know the suck that you live with and it seems more live-withable than someone elses suck. I have that in spades, I HAVE lived someone elses life before, I have lived another version of suck and I am more aware than many, just how good my suckitude really is. Because in some ways I have it all. All of it that really matters to me anyway.

I would tell you the specifics about how good I have it... but it would just come off like bragging, or else you would just look at what I think is so great and think "wow... she thinks that's so great and I think that's just more of the suck that she lives with!" Just trust me when I say that most everything is going my way and translate that statement to the things that YOU would think are great.

Didja do it?

Good. Now picture yourself sniveling about some small hitch in one aspect of your truly awesome life, possibly a hitch that is part and parcel of that aspect. Like being bitter about the security checks you have to go through to get on the plane for your two month long dream vacation to the Bahamas. Perhaps you get frustrated to tears with the Paparazzi trailing you every where cuz you are such a famous, sexy thang and you are dating whoever it is you happen to think is the uber-hottie celeb.

That's me with the sleep deprivation that comes along with the behbehs. Except for the small fact that sleep deprivation is it's own little world of misery. It is a multiplier of misery. It, by it's very nature, causes every irritation and sorrow to appear to increase and deepen in the mind of the sufferer. Seriously, I thought that I had re-jacked my knee, it hurt so bad... then I realized that everything hurt. My head hurt. My back hurt. My hands hurts. My heart hurt a little.

Henry is mostly a good baby... he just didn't sleep so good at night for five nights straight, and I don't get naps. I had to abandon my work-outs this week, and that is annoying AND humbling because I know many women who woulda gone anyway. But I guess it comes down to me knowing myself, and I had to scale back.

and you would get more of the pissing and moaning except HEY! He's awake again and I either click the publish button now, or give up and post a stupid blurb on Fecesbook.

TA DAAAAHHH!

edited to add... Meredith... I am gonna answer your question, and everyone else? Don't blame me when I do, cuz she asked!

Square One

.... only not.

Today was day one for me going back to the twice a week workout group, lovingly referred to by it's victims as "Bootcamp." I was there in the genesis; as a matter of fact I was the one who gave the instructor (also my hairdresser) the last push into teaching it. Is brutal. Her cop husband, a former BYU football player came once, tried it, and proclaimed all of us insane and hasn't been back since.

I knew it would be tough going back after almost seven months of doing nothing more physically taxing than toting a ginormous belly around. It was. Plus Pearl spent the entire first hour prostrate on the floor at whatever station I was at, sobbing her face off. Henry was less than pleased as well, so I packed it in before the end run. But I was pleased that the warm-up run was not as evil as I thought it would be. Strangely I seem to still have a bit of wind left in my lungs... well, enough wind for me to do a very slow, test jog without panting.

Trust me, after a brutal pregnancy, c-section and jacked up MCL... I am being careful.

I am delighted to find that my memory of being sore after a workout is not a fantasy. Hurts, but it feels good too, in a weird sort of a way. Of course, I may be whining a different tune tomorrow. The worst part? The worst was being the slowest, weakest, and wussiest of the group. Apparently I have enough pride that I am bugged by this, but not enough pride to be kept away by this fact.

Nine months out and nine months back: This is my mantra. I have a number months to get bad a@@ again.

On an unrelated note, and not likely to mean much to those of you without a working knowledge of the LDS church, I forgot to mention that shortly before Henry was born Dadguy was released from his church calling as Executive Secretary to the Bishop. We were thrilled. I cannot stress how thrilled were were to hear this, and then delighted that he had gone so long without a new calling. Was like a little vacation. Only not, since his extra time was sucked into Christmas stuff, baby stuff and oh yeah... World of Warcrack released an expansion in November.

Vacation's over now... he's now first counselor in the Elder's Quorum Presidency. A fairly time intensive calling like his last, but now that we are used to it (now that I am used to it) it doesn't seem so daunting. Sez the wife, who doesn't have to do the calling! Am now nervously eyeing my own calling as Relief Society teacher... it's been over two years for me doing the Teaching For Our Times bit, and a recent change in RS presidency. I suspect that I am soon to be ousted from my comfort zone into a new calling. Ah well.

Sunday pic:Henry and the Dresses

What? You need words after that?

Blog?

Did I have a blog around here somewhere? Cannot quite remember, and it's not just the new addition to the Chaos around here, though Henry certainly keeps me hopping. It's not just the shiny, new toy of Facebook (the memories, the schizo nature of it and the occasional train wreck you can witness)... although it IS a proven fact that I only have so much writing in me per diem, and a little blurb about what I am doing/thinking on FB, apparently passes for a whole blog-post worth of writing nowadays.

Part of it is that "Blog" is almost a language. When I am in the groove I actually think in Blog as well as English. I am living my life, but I am also storing up tidbits and seeing events through a lens of blogability.

Haven't been doing that lately.... thinking like that.

My only regret is that the funny, exasperating and milestone-ish things that are happening around here are sliding by and slipping away. Like the fact that Pearl is a HOOLIGAN these days. My sweet little baby girlie that was so angelic I feared for her life; some beings are too sweet to live on this earth very long. Well, I don't worry so much anymore. She is a beast.

Example? Last night she nipped me on the arm, cracked her baby brother on the head with Birdies new little digital camera and then promptly ran upstairs and emptied an entire box of breakfast cereal on the kitchen floor. Right in front of Dadguy, on purpose. And the sad thing is that we are breaking our backs to make sure she is getting as much attention as we can manage. I am thinking that our best is simply not enough, and so she is spending half her days in time out.

Fibblety crap-sticks.

I suspect that Dadguy had the right of it when he observed that four is just too many. "We have more than we can handle here, but hopefully we might be able to grow into it." Crossing my fingers, and thinking that maybe we will grow into the new dimensions of the fam. Something hurts anyway, so I am praying that it's growing pains.

Speaking of something hurting.... guess what Yours Truly did to ring in the New Year? Did you guess "drag her sorry butt into the ER?" Cuz if you did, go ahead and award yourself the "I Am a Freakin' Psychic" button, and pin that bit of flair on your vest.

Before you worry too much, let me esplain. After doing a little too much, I will sometimes feel extra-sensitive on my incision site the next day. But last night after wracking my brains and being unable to recall any lifting or heavy duty activity that would account for my increased tenderness, I decided to check. Without going into the TMI details here... let's just say that a portion of my incision had become infected, something I wasn't aware could happen after the outside had healed and was sealed off. By the time I checked, it was after nine o'clock and a simple office-visit-worthy problem had become a trip to the ER, simply because nothing else was open or would be open until Friday. The on-call physician was pretty adamant that this could not wait. "Blah-blah-blah septic blah." So I rang in 2009 with some double strength Bactrim. Whee.

And hoo-rah... tape on the girl-parts revisited, cuz you can never have enough of that action.

And, umm.. Oh yeah. HAPPY NEW YEARS!