I'm writing this from a new template Blogger decided to change (over the weekend?) and I'm furious. I'm furious because for the last ten years, the template has looked and felt pretty much exactly the same and now I have to write in a strange land and I'm already completely on edge and this just... threw me over. I had all of these photos I wanted to share from our week and our weekend and Fable breaking her karate board in her princess dress but instead I just want to throw a pity party dot com. Because much like logging into blogger this morning, I am having a hard time figuring out where I belong and we belong and Mercury must be in wtftrograde right now, no? Everything feels very... messy? Or maybe I'm just over playing make-believe and living in a state of Everythingiswonderfulland.
Until this week when the rug sort of... disintegrated.
Not because anything happened per se. The opposite, actually. NOTHING happened. Nothing is happening. And there's nothing any of us can do.
And sure, everything will work out.
It has to work out.
It always works out.
It's just a matter of... stuff happening.
And sometimes stuff happens slowly. Or, in the case of Blogger, overnight. And now I'm trying to talk myself out of this being a sign that I need to change to Squarespace or start writing in word documents or start looking into rental houses... because maybe all of the many signs that seemed to be pointing to YES were actually signs pointing to something else.
Maybe it was opposite day. And then opposite day after that.
I don't know. I feel lost this morning.
At the doctor last week (I'm fine, by the way. Sinus infection + antibiotics = already feeling much better) I realized I was thirty. I realized I was thirty when I was asked to write down my age and I wrote: thirty.
And then I realized I'm going to be thirty-one in two months. And that my "occupation" isn't something I could answer in "one word" and that I weighed 167 pounds (because that's how much I weigh right now) and all of a sudden I felt defined by this stupid questionnaire and I found myself trying to explain myself in the margins. My job and my body and my lack of sleep... my inability to spell my own name correctly in the first line. Our address being temporary...
Well this is where we live now but not for long and this is what I weigh now but not for long (I keep saying that but the weight is NOT coming off. It just isn't) and professionally, it's kind of a long story and I'm not allergic to anything except bees and once I ate too many cherries and got hives.
I think I'm just tired
Sleepy tired and also tired of myself. I used to be a lot more fun.
I love my babies more than anything but their inability to nap and sleep through the night is taking its toll. I assumed they'd be sleeping through by now but OH NO THEY DI'INT. Oh no they don't. Last night Bo and Revi kept waking each other up and I kept tripping on the same pile of books, half-asleep, running back and forth between them and then to the kitchen to make a bottle that then leaked all over the bed I barely slept in.
One would never know by looking at them that sleep is not their jam and I'm fortunate that they don't ACT tired. It's just me and Hal who are struggling. And sleep deprivation does strange things to people. Remember that movie Insomnia? Yeah.
(they actually look super tired here, never mind.) (but not here! (or here!) (they don't even sleep in the car. EVER. I snapped this after an hour car ride! Still awake!)
It was just one of those weeks.
Fable's been having night terrors, which I also had at her age. I had them until I was eight, even nine years old. The same dream every night, over and over. It was awful and, naturally, I'm very protective of myself (and my kids) because of them. I don't watch scary movies. I won't let my kids watch them either. It doesn't make a difference, though, it seems. Some of us have fear in us that cannot be helped and it kills me to see that my (happy, seemingly fearless) girl has it too.
She can't remember the flailing and the screaming and the kicking of walls. She doesn't remember the dreams or finally waking up from them.
Instead, she makes up a story that makes her feel happy. I used to do the same thing. I guess I still kind of do.