So it has come to this, has it?

I had an appointment with my "lady parts" doctor the other day, and in the days leading up to the appointment, I realized something... I was actually looking forward to it.

Because let's face it, laying half naked in "the position" covered only by the thinnest wisp of paper all the while getting cozy with a speculum, is about the closest thing I'll have to a spa day anytime soon.

Don't get me wrong. I love my kids. They're awesome kids. In fact they are the greatest kids since the invention of kids (and yes; they are better, smarter, and more adorable than your kids)... It's just that they're always... there.

In fact, I don't even get to pee alone anymore. The other day, as I was sitting inside the toilet room (that itty-bitty room that houses your toilet inside the bathroom), I was joined by two kids and a 50 pound dog while trying to empty my bladder. It was all very cozy. A little too cozy for someone who used to have trouble peeing in a public washroom if someone else was in there.

And yeah, I hear those of you who are saying, "well, that's what you sign up for when you have kids."

Except that those of you who are saying that either don't HAVE kids, ergo have no voice whatsoever in this. Or you live in the land of grandparents and caregivers and you can leave your tiny shadows whenever it pleases you.

When you have a chronically ill child that needs specialized care, plus a 1 year old who I like to refer to as my "baby-on-crack", time without them just doesn't happen. "Date-night" around here includes two children, three bags and lot of screaming.

"Joanne," you say, "you sound so bitter!'

Nope. I'm really not. I'm just tired. And in need of some "me" or "me and the husband" time. You know that saying, "how can I miss you if you never go away?"

Yeah. It's kinda like that.

In the meantime, it is with great anticipation that I'm awaiting my sono appointment in a few days.

I gotta date with a wand wearing a condom.

Beyond Thunderdome

I have never seen any of the Mad Max movies, so I don't know what they're about, but I like to use the title from one of them in my crazy vernacular. It's Beyond Thunderdome and you use it when you are so far past a certain emotion/feeling that there really is no description for it. For example:

When you are so hungry that your stomach feels like it has started eating itself, and the idea of gnawing on your own arm sounds heavenly; you are Beyond Thunderdome Hungry.

Or when you are so angry that your entire body is shaking with rage and everybody better get out of the way because you're going to start throwing crap. Not literal crap, but whatever is within your reach, including a 42 inch LCD flat screen TV. That is called Beyond Thunderdome Mad.

Got it?

Well friends, I am Beyond Thunderdome Tired. I swear to you, I'm not sure what decade we're even in anymore. I think my brainwaves are so screwed up that my dog has started communicating telepathically with me. I forget what I'm saying, as I am saying it, and I can't remember what a toilet is used for. I am so far past Beyond Thunderdome Tired, I can't even see it anymore.

All of it has to do with Elise's diabetes, but if you want to read more about that, then you need to visit my other blog. But seriously, these days 4 hours is a good night's sleep for us.

Some of it is our own doing... most nights we don't crawl into bed until midnight, mostly because we check Elise's blood sugar at midnight and sometimes it's not worth it to go to bed, only to have to wake up in 45 minutes.

But the other might we truly outdid ourselves. I don't know how Al Gore managed it, but he has somehow reversed global warning because Texas is in the middle of an Arctic freeze. And when we have any sort weather event, the local meteorologists have orgasms and decide to start freaking their viewers out. Which leads to all necessary supplies within a 100 mile radius being sold out.

You know those water faucet cover thingies (we call them boobies)? Well, the other night we couldn't find our second one, which according to the weather people OUR OUTSIDE PIPES ARE GOING TO BURST AND THERE WILL BE WATER ALL OVER YOUR HOUSE AND IT WILL FREEZE AND THEN YOU WILL DIE.

Or something to that effect.

So at 11:00 at night, Fred sets off on his intrepid journey to find us another boobie. Being Ms. Practical, I told him to call and make sure the store had them in stock. We finally found some in the devil's emporium, Walmart (I personally will not step foot into Walmart, but have yet to convince Fred to follow suit), about 20 minutes away. Except that when Fred got there, they didn't actually have any, the person who answered the phone was just too lazy/stupid to check.

Fred tried again, only to have the same thing happen, and finally made his way home at 1:00 am, boobie-less. Upon further inspection of our outside premises, he found the missing boobie under a bush in our garden. I don't even know what to say about that.

The only positive part of this whole meandering, go-nowhere story is that Fred now agrees with me that Walmart is the worst place in the world and should be avoided at all costs. I told him if he ever regresses, I'm going to do a little classical conditioning on him and kick him in the groin while yelling, "Walmart!", so that if he ever gets the urge to shop there, he will feel pain in his nether-regions (à la Pavlov's dogs).

The moral of this story is three-fold:
I am tired
Walmart sucks
Look for lost boobies in the garden

Can I get a perscription for a nap?

I heard that Jay Leno checked himself into the hospital a few weeks ago, citing "exhaustion" as the reason. I didn't know that "exhaustion" was a valid diagnoses to be hospitalized for. I mean, I'm exhausted too, but my doc has never told me that hospitalization was an option. Maybe "celebrity exhaustion" is different from the exhaustion us "common-folk" get. Maybe they get a more potent form; sort of like swine-exhaustion.

Why am I tired? Maybe it's because I haven't had a vacation since I was 6 months pregnant with Elise. It could be because I don't get more than about 4 - 5 hours of sleep a night. Perhaps it's because I've forgotten what having fun is like. Maybe it's due to the fact that I haven't been away from Elise for more than a few hours since her diabetes diagnoses. Or it could be because I am IT. The go-to gal. A-number 1. The starting pitcher, reliever, and sometimes closer for Elise's care. And I am exhausted.

I don't really swear in real life, or in blog life for that matter. Crap is about the worst you'll get out of me. But lately I've wanted to find the highest spot in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area, maybe a water tower or my roof, and scream the F-word for as long and as loudly as I can. Sort of like that scene in Little Miss Sunshine, when the son finds out he's colour-blind.

I don't think it will help matters, but it sure would feel good.

I am very aware that my feelings of exhaustion come mostly when life with Elise is difficult. She hasn't been napping well lately, we've had some night time issues (diabetes related), and I had a very frightening experience with her yesterday that I chronicled on my other blog.

I just can't find a way to get un-exhausted.

Since we commoners can't check into the hospital for "exhaustion" (I called my HMO and checked), I think I'll go play in traffic in hopes of getting run over. Don't worry, it will most likely be a school zone when the lights are flashing.

I don't want to be exhausted and dead.

Who takes care of the care takers?

I'm sick. I had a sneaking suspicion that this was the case, and it was confirmed on Saturday when I received the diagnoses of a sinus infection. For me to give in and go see a doctor, means it has to have reached a point of terminal velocity (can you use that term to describe illness? I don't care, it sounds cool). And it had... I'll spare you (most of) the details, but you can't find the colour of some of the stuff I coughed up in nature. It was that gross.

It's not the total down-for-the-count kind of sick, but it has been going on for a little while and it's starting to take it's toll on my body. I feel like I'm walking through a giant mass of gelatinous goo with shoes that weigh at least ten pounds each, all the while wearing titanium body armour. And carrying about 10 extra pounds that I must have gained from all the mini eggs I have eaten since Easter candy went on sale. I'm tired, my body is tired, and all I really want to do is lay on the floor, with Elise within arms reach because I'm sure not moving too quickly if she gets into anything.

But no, it just doesn't work that way. Because there is laundry to do, mail to open and file, meals to make, a dog to feed, diabetes to treat, a house to clean, grocery lists to compile, bills to pay, coupons to cut, so on and so forth for evermore, ad infinitum.

It doesn't seem fair, does it? When Fred is sick, he gets to take the day off, stay home and lie on the sofa. When I am sick, I get to stay home and... well, pretty much do everything that I normally do in a day. Momma don't get no sick days.

I'm not saying that Fred doesn't do his share. In fact, he is the antithesis of the stereo-typical husband. When he is home, he goes above and beyond in helping out and I know I am so blessed to have a guy like that. Unfortunately, since we are not independently wealthy (or even dependently wealthy for that matter), Fred has to work, and life must go on.

So I'm slogging through as best as I can, but I honestly don't know how much longer my poor body can put up with this. It doesn't help that Elise has been sick too, which as I posted earlier, makes caring for her diabetes so difficult. I'm mentally and physically exhausted.

In a perfect world, we would have some sort of "Mommy Charter", dictating that when one of us is down for the count, others would step in to help out, giving Moms everywhere the peace of mind that they too, can have sick days.

In fact, when I become president of my own sovereign island nation (which will happen when I purchase said island - preferably a deserted one), I will invoke this idea into law. If you want citizenship to this heretofore unnamed nation, you must pass an IQ test, a personality test, smell nice, and listen to good music. The president has spoken.

Now you know why I'm crabby all the time

Sleep, slumber, 40 winks, visiting the Land of Nod; whatever you call it, I need it. I'm an 8-hour a night kind of girl. Oh, I'm not saying I get 8 hours... rather, that's the minimum requirement if I hope to even remotely resemble a human being the next day and not some quivering mass of cranky, useless goo.

But staying up too late, having troubles falling and staying asleep, and having a child that requires nighttime intervention a few nights a week have hugely diminished my sleeping abilities.

That is why when Elise's piercing shrieks awoke me at 5:45 this morning (totally not her fault, the poor girl is teething... at almost 19 months, she still has only 4 teeth and I think the rest of them are erupting simultaneously), I was utterly dismayed to remember that I had been dreaming about grocery shopping before I woke up.

Seriously, subconscious? Even when I'm asleep, I still have to do drudge work? It's supposed to be a time for rest! There was one interesting part where I was talking about the band KLF to another shopper, mentioning that they had done a duet with Tammy Wynette. Why my brain decided to dig up this nugget of information, I'll never know.

I woke up as I was meandering towards the bread section with a coupon in hand. Hah... I'm cheap even in my dreams.

Hopefully tonight I won't be dreaming of doing something like scrubbing the toilets, folding laundry or vacuuming; I work hard enough during the day to avoid those tasks, I shouldn't have to do it at night too.

Whew, I'm tired!

I think I need a weekend to recover from my weekend. Seriously, I think the last time I was that busy was B.E. (before Elise). Here's the rundown:

Saturday:

Coffee with the girls at 9:00. Okay, I was late and got there around 10:00, but I really enjoyed sitting and chatting with Jade and Leanna. A good way to start the weekend.

After Elise finishes her lunch, it's grocery shopping time.

Come home, have a stand-off with Elise about napping. I win, but it means that she and I have to miss the monthly Portuguese Meet-up lunch. Fred goes solo. I am sad.

Because Elise's nap schedule got messed up, she has to go to bed early and we don't get to go watch Fred play soccer. Once again, I am sad.

After Elise is in bed, I start making the Egg Bake that I'm going to take to Sunday's brunch. Clean up kitchen and go to bed.

Sunday:

Wake up at 8:00, and we're determined to make the 9:00 service at church. After nursing Elise, Fred walking Seven, showering, and feeding Elise her breakfast; we make it there at 9:25. Not too bad!

Come home from church, throw egg bake that I made last night into the oven. Get Elise down for her nap, take egg bake out of oven and go to brunch.

Spend a wonderful two and a half hours with Kellie and her friends. I have to leave early because I need to go home to make dinner for our small group that night.

Arrive home to find my husband making dinner... Wow! He called up a friend who originally gave me the recipe, and took it upon himself to give me a little break. Nice.

Get Elise down for her nap, finish making dinner, and clean up the kitchen. Elise doesn't wake up in time for our small group, so I send Fred ahead with the food. She finally wakes up and we drive to Irving to spend some sweet time with the Kramers, Betti (plural for Bettes), and Duncans.

We leave small group early to go to second dinner at On the Border to meet up with our friends Marcelo, Elaine, and their kids Isabella and Eduarda; who are visiting from Brazil. It was so fun to see them again, but our time there was short, as we had to get Elise to bed.

Bath time, feeding, then bed for Elise at 10:00. We fall into bed around 11:30 - totally exhausted.

I still nurse Elise 4 times a day, so that takes a lot out of a person too. Plus it was 107 degrees F this weekend. That's about 40 degrees C for my metric friends.

Remind me to never take on a weekend like this again.