Chances of this making sense: slim to crackers

Hi, and welcome to Life Version 2.0: There Is No Time.

Holy skunk on a dog, I feel like a wind up toy turned to the clicking point and set loose on a hardwood floor. I realized today that I am on the fast track to Bonkersville after I set out on an errand to Use Our Coupons to Get V. Important Things for Cheap and came home with a 12 pack of Cokes and two Take 5 bars.  This was after standing for five minutes in the drug store aisle trying to decipher what kind of damn tuna fish I was supposed to be buying with my dollar off coupon before realizing that I’ve been eating tuna fish for a solid week and would rather send money to Chicken of the Sea NOT to have to eat it than walk out of the store with one more can of that shit.

I forgot just what life is like when your baby stops sleeping.  But now I remember: IT SUCKS.  Especially when that baby is one of two dependents in your care.  From the moment you wake up in the morning until you flop down for your first hour to two hours of sleep in the night there is no rest. Someone always needs you to feed them or bathe them or wipe their bottom or tell them what time it is in China and meanwhile you, like the bonehead that you are, have decided that hey, I know the baby is only four months and still getting the hang of this sleeping thing, but why don’t I run a 5K?  FOR FUNZIES?

I know all of this new life juggling stuff is kind of like Rosie and her sleep schedule – it will be rough for a while and there will be some growing pains, but then I’ll get the hang of it eventually.  Until it changes again and it will be hard again for a while and then I’ll get the hang of that. But BWUH is it kicking my ass in the interim.

And I look longingly at the computer every day and think of all the writing I’m not doing and I send telepathic messages to you (O Fair Internets, do not forsake me.  I pine for you.  I will return some day, etc.) and maybe I even sit down for a second when there is a magical quiet moment, but then I remember: Great Jiminy Cricket, there’s a mound of clothes soaked in poop on the floor of our room that I forgot all about.  And I try hard to block it out, to pretend it’s not there taunting me with its turdiness, but it is no use, I must go to it.  Because it’s shit. On my floor.  And in a contest of blog vs. shit on the floor, the shit wins every time.

So Internets, I beg.  Don’t quit me. Because mound of poop clothes or not, I can’t quit you.


1 ginny { 02.26.09 at 10:35 am }

If we show up at your house on Friday at 4:00, do you want a nap? We know the way to Boston Market for sweet potatoes. Or would you rather go for your 2 mile run?

2 Allen { 02.26.09 at 5:48 pm }

Hi Ginny,

I would LOVE a nap tomorrow anytime. (I do prefer the mac n’ cheeze though)

respectfully yours,

Oh, I’m sorry. Did I forget to introduce myself?

3 ginny { 02.26.09 at 5:58 pm }

I could be the roving nap-provider. I imagine there might be several partakers.

4 Anjie { 02.27.09 at 11:40 am }

Yeah, but Ginny, don’t be fooled. Allen ain’t got no babies taking her away from sleep. Don’t let her sucker your kind hearted grandmother instincts!

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