No sleep. No energy. Nothing left to give.
I feel like I've been dessicated and am crumbling.
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Two kids, two full time careers - lots of people do it gracefully, but for me it's a challenge, particularly as I struggle with my boy, the rooster, and his "constellation" of health and developmental issues. Medicine so far fails to cure what ails us, so I'm trying a self-prescribed intensive dose of blogging to see if that does the trick.
Followers
Rooster Calls
Some of My Reading
Blog Archive
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2008
(181)
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March
(44)
- ?
- "My So Called Life?"
- Two Steps Forward...
- Walking the Talk
- Hi ho, Hi ho...School Daze
- Which Rooster is Calling?
- Well Shut My Mouth
- Comfort Levels
- Diagnosed
- Found Time
- Like Sally Field
- Some Kids I CAN Help
- To The Office
- I Get By
- Car Talk
- i am always awake forever
- Anyone who reads my blogs clearly needs a good lau...
- If
- NO
- FEAR
- Doctor Doctor
- ABCs - Teach Me!
- Confession is Good for the Judge
- Pieceful Resistance
- Miracles of Modern Medicine
- Back in Business
- What Helps
- Dear Doctor
- Finding our Center
- Bad Metaphors
- Hazards
- Perspective
- Curses
- If You Blog - Questions from a Neophyte
- The Mouth of My Babe
- My Village by Way of LA
- ALARM!
- The Third Shoe Drops
- Today's Bad Daze
- HELP! Request for Information
- Coincidences Come in Threes
- Good Night Gorilla
- DURST
- Amelia Bedelia
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March
(44)
3 comments:
oh, dear, I wish I lived closer and could come give you a break... you need some sleep (duh!) and some time to yourself, or you can't possibly remember that things do get better. I'm so sorry that you're having such a rough time...
hugs...
Karin
Here's a thought: send your son to school and call yourself in sick. Seriously.
So this small piece of string walks into the bar and tries to order a drink. The bartender points to a sign that says "No strings served."
"Sorry," the bartender growls. "We don't serve your kind."
So the string goes outside, does flips and somersaults, bashes himself against walls, and finally looks as tattered and balled-up as a string can get.
He goes back into the bar, sits down, and orders a drink.
The bartender looks at him, slams the "No string served" sign pointedly, and hollers, "Didn't you read that sign, string?"
The string calmly replies, "I'm a frayed knot."
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