I think I might have gotten 5 hours of sleep last night. Usually, I try to get at least 7 if not the heavenly 8. The first 4 were easy - I went to bed feeling like crap thanks to this mysterious stomach ailment that plagues me at random intervals...it's probably the ulcer that I am positive the teenager has been burning into my gut over the last 3 years - but then my husband came home from his show at 2:30 a.m. and made just enough noise to wake me up before collapsing into a deep sleep right next to me. Thanks, sweetie.
The next 4 hours were spent obsessing in that half-asleep way where you think you've thought of something, only to not be able to recall what it was you were thinking about. Again, the teenager factors in heavily here. Will he turn himself around before the end of the year? What will we do with him this summer? Will he ever drive again* or will I be stuck shuttling him around like a little kid for the next two years? Did we make a mistake? Are we being overprotective? Are we being irresponsible?
I'm sure I thought of other things, too. My little boys, my job, the guy who was on Oprah yesterday talking about finding job satisfaction...
Then the sun came up and four little feet came pattering down the hall. Though I tried to sleep through "Word Girl" (Have you seen this show? I kind of love it.), I knew I'd have to get up. And here we are. And I feel a little better now even though I haven't had any Starbucks.
Happy Saturday.
*I'll skimp on the details here, but the gist is that we yanked the keys for chemical-related indiscretions.
No comments:
Post a Comment