Friday, July 14, 2006

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream...

Okay, if I don't get some good sleep soon bad things are going to happen. Bad bad things. My legs have been doing a number on me, and that always effects my sleep. Motrin does help, but I try to restrict it for only the worst because if I use it too much it stops working, and it always gives me pains. Too many years of over the counter and prescription NSAID's, I know. Last night was a Motrin night. If I can take it and get to bed, and let it work so I can fall asleep BEFORE the pain starts then I sleep well and all is right with the world. If that does not happen, it makes it worse because now my legs are doing the Rhumba and my stomach is doing a tap-dance. How is a person supposed to sleep when their body thinks it's on "So you think you can dance"? At about 2:00am, I was sleeping blessedly like a baby (and the spirits breathed a sigh of relief and the planets aligned and the plants sighed and went back to growing and cows stopped giving curdled milk) when suddenly Xena landed on top of me like a tonne of bricks. Legs splayed, a little dazed. She was tracking a fly and had done some sort of gymnastic leap from the windowsill onto the bed, landing on the dog that was sleeping under the covers near my feet. Ruby got startled and barked, which scared the ever skittish Xena and she went straight up into the air. So concerned about her fear, she did not plan a landing which clearly came sooner than she expected. Winded herself, upset the dog, and woke ME. The awakening was quite sudden and disturbing. My legs went back to doing their jive and I spent the rest of the dark hours alternating between writhing and fitful drowse. I imagine that if you were to watch the insane sleep, it would be much like this (but with less expensive bedding). DD has started on a shower binge. Every morning when she hears one of us get up, she bounds out of her room and says "SHOWER PLEASE" while stripping. Even washes her own hair in there. I would sob that my baby is growing up, but last night I spent THREE HOURS cleaning her toy room. I am ready for her to grow up and clean it herself next time. Although I have been told that growing up and cleaning toy rooms is not always connected. In my little world where the sky is purple, pugs don't smell funny and love when you touch their feet, and cats don't wake you at 2:00am doing aerial gymnastics, I can hope that person is wrong and little girls eventually clean up their own crayons. And there IS hope. She has been making her bed every morning as well. My husband is sulking. But he is sulking and cutting the lawn, so I am in no rush to stop him from sulking. We had more words this morning. He knows the morning routine. He knows what needs to be done. Standing and tapping his foot waiting for ME to do it all because we are running late does not sit well with me. There is no reason he can't pack DD's daycamp bag while I am making her lunch and feeding the zoo. Or help her with her hair, or whatever else he is tapping his foot about while I am running around like a chicken with an adrenal problem. He says I make him feel useless. I said if you act useless then you are useless, if and you want to be USEFUL then do something instead of standing around acting useless - don't blame it on me. He countered with "When was I acting useless". And I quick-fire rattled off seven instances from last night and this morning but he stopped me before I could finish. The real problem is his shutdown is ending, he goes back to work next week, and he hasn't done any of the things he planned to do. Sitting and watching TV shows all morning then DVD's for the rest of the day is not very productive, what was he expecting? He did chores at MIL's house, and absolutely nothing here. So much for finishing the rest of the basement. He keeps talking about a work-out room, but he has all these things in his mind that have to be done first. And let's face it, if you don't start you can't finish, right? I asked about the stuff he was supposed to be bringing from MIL's and he hemmed and hawed, said he might go over tomorrow. THE SALE IS TOMORROW. The whole purpose of this frigging garage sale was she had things to sell but felt yard sales make your house look trashy. Unacceptable for her, but apparently fine to send her garbage here to sell. Fine, we have things that can go. I have arranged tables. I made signs, took an ad out in the paper. Organized and priced things. She has nothing ready because she is waiting for him to help her, and he is waiting for her to be ready before he goes to get the stuff. He still has to move the stuff he has on the patio to the shed, but he can't do that until he cleans out the shed, and he can't clean out the shed until he mows the lawn, and he can't mow the lawn until he finishes watching his DVD blah blah blah give me a rock to bash his head in. Between the two of them I don't know if I am going to have an aneurysm or what. So we had a fight and I flung his DVD and he went outside because he is mad and now he is mowing the lawn in anger. Which is not such a bad thing - he is doing a better job than he normally does. See anything you wanna buy?

5 comments:

The Cookbook Junkie said...

Our husbands are way too much alike. It's scary.

Anonymous said...

dances, have you tried b12 injections for your legs? i have rls (restless leg syndrome) and have found that b12 injections do help to a point.

DancesInGarden said...

How does one answer an anonymous LOL? My legs bother me because of nerve damage. Any kind of strain (if I lift something, sweep the floor, even yell too loud) and I am punished with crawling muscles. Picture a charlie horse over and over again. But not painful exactly. Sometimes every muscle tightens up and won't relax to the point where if I lie on my side my foot and ankle don't touch the mattress at all. I'm a freak show, I tell ya. Thanks for the suggestion, though!

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