There Are Almost No Words

To describe the absolute, knock-down drag-out no-holds-barred insanity of the past week. I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired. Thankfully Matteas has been alright except for a few stuffy noses, but the rest of us have had fairly awful colds off and on for months now. Last night Jack had a fever of 104.1. I was pretty worried, but Aaron took him to the doctor earlier in the day and she said it was just a virus. Still, poor Jack looked awful and now he has a cough like a barking seal. His fever is gone though, so hopefully he'll be on the road to recovery from now on. Speaking of recovery, I'm still working on mine. Physically I'm alright, but spiritually I feel pretty beat up. Lack of sleep is not helping. I felt pretty drained yesterday and then Matteas would not sleep last night. He'd spit up on me a couple of times, but I have found that my standards of personal hygiene have really gone to heck since becoming a mom and so I mostly ignored it. There is a limit though, and I discovered at 4 a.m. that my limit is getting barf in my hair for the third time after not showering for two days. I sat there in bed, blearily looking at Matteas(or trying to) and feeling ready to cry(again) when I made myself chuckle by thinking "If I was a muffin, I would be Disgusting Muffin." That thought alone should be testimony to the degree of mental anguish I'm suffering. But instead of crying, I decided that baby and I would take a shower, which he always likes. Plus he was covered in his own spit up. So we had a nice steamy shower and some nursing time and got dressed in nice clean pj's, and by then it was five o'clock in the morning. I had not yet slept. Sometime between five and seven I fell asleep but woke up to Jack in my bed coughing. Aaron came in from getting ready for work, looked at me and asked me what happened. "He didn't let me sleep again." I don't remember what happened after that except for thinking how very badly I wanted to sleep, and then I woke up and it was 10:30. I had slept for almost three hours. I had vague concerns about what Jack might be up to as he was no longer in my bed, but was too busy enjoying the feeling of lying in bed with a snuggly baby curled up with me. Finally I thought I'd better investigated, so I got up and came out to the living room to find a fire going and candles lit, and Jack and Aaron eating tortellini at the kitchen table. "How are you here?" I asked, to which my sweet husband replied "You looked like you needed me, so I stayed." So now, with my eyes a little less blood-shot and my sanity barely in sight off in the distant future, I actually have the energy to get excited about a few things. Aaron kicked me out of the house yesterday evening while the boys were napping, so I went out and got a few things. I bought some new crayons and a sketch book for Jack and a collection of little plastic farm animals, which he was been really fascinated by lately. For myself I got a new set of really nice watercolors, a set of brushes, some watercolor paper, and two books; one is called eat pray love, and the other is called The Birth House. The first book everyone seems to be talking about and the second one I've never heard of, but it's about midwives and women and babies. So last night when Matteas wouldn't sleep, I read. A real book. Not the whole thing, but a significant portion. It made me feel kind of giddy. I think I might even get a chance to try out my new paints tonight, which will probably make me even giddier than the books. I used to paint for hours when I was a teenager, but I haven't done it in years. My Dad used to get mad at me for hoarding dinner plates smeared with paint under my bed, unable to bring myself to waste the paint. Hopefully I don't suck at it after years of neglect; that would be awfully disappointing. If I'm pleased enough with the results of my efforts I'll post some pictures. And now, as both boys are sleeping, some quality time with my husband in front of the fire.