Naked Mermaids Riding Seahorses

What?!? No?  Okay, fine!  I'll try to explain.  My insomnia comes and goes.  Right now it's camped out in my house (mind, body, whatever).  After multiple nights of insufficient sleep, I start to have weirder thoughts than usual.  I think it's a combination of fatigue and anxiety about not being able to sleep.  This morning I woke up about three hours after I had gone to bed.  I was very frustrated, and decided to take a stand (or in this case, a lie down) against the insomnia monster.  If you know anything about insomnia, experts say that you shouldn't stay in bed and fret.  You're supposed to get out of bed and do something else.  I was irritated and determined to go back to sleep.  I tossed and turned and pouted.  My mind was, of course, running 90 mph.

I was trying to think of email subject lines that would elicit the most curiosity from the recipient.  This is also kind of a personalized thing.  You have to know your victim (oops... I mean "friend").  One person might be intrigued by naked mermaids riding seahorses while another wouldn't be.  There is also the line between intriguing and gross/horrifying/terrifying/calling the police that you really don't want to cross.

After I decided on a subject line and mentally composed my email, then I began insomnia math.  Just in case you are unfamiliar with this, I'll explain.  Insomnia math is when you become increasingly agitated as you lie in the bed and calculate exactly how much sleep you will get if you fall asleep right now.... now..... now..... now.  You take the frustration level (scale of 1 to 467) created by this and multiply it by 78 if the person next to you is snoring.  Multiply that number by 1000, and that is how much money you will need for bail after you hold the pillow over the snorer's face until they stop squirming.  This is real world math, people, unlike that crap they tried to teach us in high school.

I need a nap.....

If It Wasn't For My Children, I'd Probably Have A Mullet

So... MB and I just returned home from vacation a couple of days ago.  The kids wanted to stay in Alabama with their grandparents a little longer.  This means I'm kid-free for a few days.  Oh the plans I had for my days of freedom.....  It's not going quite as I expected.

First, I miss those little monsters like crazy.  I've been by myself almost all day and not once has anyone asked me to prepare food for them.  I have not wiped even one tiny bottom.  I haven't asked anyone if their hands are clean.  I haven't broken up any fights or threatened anyone.  And worst of all--- there are no sweet little voices ringing in my ears NONSTOP.

Secondly (and likely most disturbing), I realize that I need to have constant demands on my attention otherwise I'll get into trouble.  My mind wanders while painting and organizing.  I come up with "brilliant" ideas like buying a crimping iron.  I lived through the '80s. Why am I considering this?  Next thing you know I'll be online hunting down a HyperColor shirt and layering neon color socks.  I would add rocking out to Cyndi Lauper to this list, but I already do this on a semi-regular basis (thanks, Pandora).

Clearly, I need my kids to come home.  They keep me out of trouble.  Who can possibly plan horrible hairstyle choices (the mom ponytail is totally unplanned, I swear) when you stay so busy?  Hurry home, babies, before Mommy rocks a fe-mullet!

Crying, Whining, Candy Wrappers, and Stretchy Pants (aka Tuesday)

Quick update on the last six or so months:  had the hysterectomy, survived the hysterectomy, still crazy.   Just to clarify for everyone (because I get this question A LOT), the hysterectomy was performed for reasons relating to physical pain.  I kept my ovaries which means that my perimenopause roller coaster will continue on its terrifying, scream-inducing path.  Having surgery was the best decision I've ever made.  I still have moments of wishing I hadn't had to cut my child-bearing career short, but then my kids wake up and I'm okay with it.

I'm still crazy.  Most of the time it's the fun kind of crazy, but occasionally it gets mixed with an unhealthy dose of do-we-know-where-all-the-sharp-implements-are crazy.   Usually my bouts of hormonal Hulk rage end quickly.  It's the simmering anger and irritation that can sometimes last for days (note:  MB would like me to change "days" to "months or years").  I will have a week where I get on my own nerves.  I'll be bitchy and whiny and just generally irritating to even my own endless patience (no, MB, I will not change "endless" to "nonexistent").  These are the times when I cry because we're out of milk and going to the store seems just like climbing Mt. Everest on a Tuesday whim.  I send emails I live to regret OR I just ignore everyone.  I eat really, really unhealthy foods and allow Ginger (in case you missed the earlier explanation, Ginger is my perimenopausal alter-ego---- she's certifiably insane.  And possibly homocidal) to talk me out of running.  It's just an all-around mess of crying, whining, candy wrappers, and stretchy pants.  

I've tried to convince my family that it will get better.... one day.  Let's face it--- none of us are buying that.  Hopefully the good days outnumber the bad, the running days outnumber the not running days.  And hopefully-- we all live long enough to laugh about the times Mommy cried because someone else ate the last Moon Pie.