Last night I did something moset people do every night, I slept. Just when I thought I would go mad if I didn't start sleeping. I've tried the pills, the routines, the whole nine yards. So I decided to do the sensible thing and try something new. Valerian root and melatonin pills. (No this isn't an infomercial, I just sound like one!)
So I kept the routine, added the pills and woke up to my alarm at 6 a.m. Now I have the whole day ahead of me, whereas before I would wake anywhere from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m. and feel like I had no time to get anything done. Normally I pass out from sheer exhaustion somewhere around 4 a.m. to 7 a.m. It was never a problem of being tired, I was all the time. It was a matter of not being able to fall asleep. Now, my life can begin. And no, I don't care how cheesy that sounds.
After I got up, I had me a nice cup of hot wake-em-up tea. ( I don't do coffee, it makes my stomach hurt and actually makes me sleepy. I'm just strange all the way around.) Now, once my clothes are washed and I take a shower, I'll be a real person, not just a shell of one.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Still (don't) wanna grow up...
I’ll never be “that” mom. Doesn’t matter what I do now…my chance is over and was from the beginning. I had my kids when I was 19 and 20. I had my kids with a man I barely knew and when I did find out who he was, well, we were all better off not knowing to begin with. So what brought this on, you ask? Oh, the normal, thinking when I shouldn’t. So here we go, delving into another topic I’d rather leave buried.
When the boys were younger I got into a playgroup I found online. I was staying at home with them all the time and it just happened. They needed someone to play with, I needed mommy friends. The mommy friends I found were great; totally together, in love with their husbands, educated, older than me, happy to have children and actively trying for more. On the surface. Now, granted, these women probably do have problems of their own and come to think of it one of my mommy friends is now divorced from her husband (but is now in another loving relationship).
Me? I was the total wreck of the group. Unwed, young, high school dropout, father nowhere in sight, emotionally unstable, two unexpected so-not-planned-for kids. Why these women put up with me at all is something I’ll never understand. But there I was, in the middle of all that mommy coolness. Now I see their updates, their new ultrasound pics of yet another bundle of (planned for) joy, tales of mommyhood told in funny little anecdotes. All the while, I am here and still a disgusting mess. Don’t have custody of my kiddos, no job, still only slightly smarter than the bag boy, just now realizing it’s time to grow up.
I’m going to fucking cry right now, if only my nose wasn’t so damned stopped up to begin with.
I’m the mommy with no kids, the mommy with scars visible and unseen, the mommy with tattoos, the mommy who can’t get it together, the mommy who is 25 and acts 12.
Maybe I just need to take it easy on myself, I am at least taking steps to correct what I can, although there is still so much that can’t be taken back.
The father of my kids is still going to be a drug fiend, prison bound, immature, self-centered, unaware ass. I’ll never be married to him, happily or unhappily so. I’ll probably never try for another baby and gloat over the precious mucus-y bundle waiting to be delivered.
I guess I never knew it but I really wanted to be that mom.
When the boys were younger I got into a playgroup I found online. I was staying at home with them all the time and it just happened. They needed someone to play with, I needed mommy friends. The mommy friends I found were great; totally together, in love with their husbands, educated, older than me, happy to have children and actively trying for more. On the surface. Now, granted, these women probably do have problems of their own and come to think of it one of my mommy friends is now divorced from her husband (but is now in another loving relationship).
Me? I was the total wreck of the group. Unwed, young, high school dropout, father nowhere in sight, emotionally unstable, two unexpected so-not-planned-for kids. Why these women put up with me at all is something I’ll never understand. But there I was, in the middle of all that mommy coolness. Now I see their updates, their new ultrasound pics of yet another bundle of (planned for) joy, tales of mommyhood told in funny little anecdotes. All the while, I am here and still a disgusting mess. Don’t have custody of my kiddos, no job, still only slightly smarter than the bag boy, just now realizing it’s time to grow up.
I’m going to fucking cry right now, if only my nose wasn’t so damned stopped up to begin with.
I’m the mommy with no kids, the mommy with scars visible and unseen, the mommy with tattoos, the mommy who can’t get it together, the mommy who is 25 and acts 12.
Maybe I just need to take it easy on myself, I am at least taking steps to correct what I can, although there is still so much that can’t be taken back.
The father of my kids is still going to be a drug fiend, prison bound, immature, self-centered, unaware ass. I’ll never be married to him, happily or unhappily so. I’ll probably never try for another baby and gloat over the precious mucus-y bundle waiting to be delivered.
I guess I never knew it but I really wanted to be that mom.
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