Zzzzzzzz

I slept about four hours last night. Three of them in a row. All of them on the floor. None of them after 4. 

A healthy, rested, balanced person could do this, at least once in a while. I am not healthy, rested, or balanced, because I've been doing this too long. 

She has a cough. She wet the bed. He heard her cough. He had a dream. Four on the floor of the playroom, never settling in, never back to sleep. And now I'm supposed to go to work and be extra efficient to make up for the day out yesterday. Or just finally give up? 

A major problem with this continuous sleep deprivation is the vicious cycle of it. Once you fry me to a certain point, I don't stand a chance at doing lots of proactive things when the next evening rolls around. I am way too tired to think of duct taping the diaper so it doesn't leak, or buying the special organic turkey the rooster can eat to fill him full of Thanksgiving drowsiness, and you can forget soothing lullabies and warm baths just before bed. I am barely able to function, as in bathe, drive, work, feed and clothe them, administer medications, keep them from ending up in the ER. And with the rooster up at all hours, he will be a joy if he goes to school. It's my husband's turn to miss work, and so I guess he will. He will give the girl her cough syrup and the boy his constant, unwavering, necessary supervision, and we will hope sick days will still be left over for when surgeries and emergencies come again as they have the last two years. We are not rich -- there is no nanny waiting in the wings. 

They call it beauty sleep for many reasons. I look like I could be my own grandmother. I don't wear any makeup, but I'm realizing that needs to change. And if beauty is as beauty does, well, let's just say I'm haggard inside and out. As you can surely tell, I'm wretched. How you are still reading is hard to grasp...

In no way am I trying to make a religious proclamation; I don't ever really want to go into that private realm too deeply in the blogosphere. That is not my topic. But in light of the sleep torture, I have to confess this: In my stupor, I regularly picture some all-powerful being, up above me, watching, and he HATES me. He TORTURES me. I ask myself if it's punishment, or just a malicious game. I wonder if I did something terrible in a previous life. Or maybe because I cheated death as a child (that is another post), this is the consequence. Maybe it's because I have NOT connected with a deep and abiding faith as I would really like to do. Maybe I am in a movie like the Truman Show, only it's the Rooster Show. Maybe someone cast a curse or hex on me, or has a ghkcole voodoo doll. Maybe I'm just a melodramatic, fried human being -- yes, yes, absolutely that must most likely fit the bill. Nothing can truly be as draining as I perceive this to be, it's just life, and I've gone soft. But I do sometimes throw my head back, and shout up at the sky, "Well then I hate you too!" This will cost me some of my readers, but maybe instead of despising me, you could pray for me. I am not good at doing it for myself, and the whole family here, including the two small innocents, would forever appreciate your prayers for a little rest, and a little balance, and a huge dollop of perspective. 

Please, though, whatever you do: don't send me solution ideas. Tried. Did. Done. Can't. Already thought of it. Moving on. Really. Puleaaze. 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to start my day.