Conspiracies of the Universe

Today is irritate Danica day. If you haven't participated, please don't and say you did.

I couldn't sleep last night, so I didn't go to bed until late. However, at 1 a.m., as I was making That Man's lunch, I noticed he'd left me a note that it was my day to take the Teenager to school the next morning. Fine. I went to bed and forced myself to sleep.

This morning, I woke up exactly one hour before I needed to. I tried to fall back asleep, but B woke up the baby while sneaking out of their room. Great. Brought screaming baby into my bed and we fell asleep ten minutes before I needed to get up to take teenager to school. I did manage to get up in time, race downstairs to make sure I could leave the little ones while I took the big one, and get teenager to school. On time, even.

Got home, and person picking up Houseguest is parked in the middle of the driveway. So I had to turn around and park on the street. Okay, fine. I decide to take a nap. B wants "mommy time". So we play a game instead. Game over, I try to lay down on the couch. Baby wakes up and wants to snuggle. Fine. I put on Disney, and we all snuggle. EXCEPT... these idiotic shows that want the kiddos to be "active". Every time I start to doze off, the kids jump up and start dancing. On top of me. I finally give up and go take a shower. After my shower, I bathe the children, do some laundry and get B ready for school. (Doesn't this sound soooo exciting?)

I take B to school, head to the grocery store, because something in that parenting manual says I'm supposed to feed my children, and I have nothing to feed them for dinner. At the grocery store, I get Baby out of the car, and she decides to throw a fit. In the parking lot. In the slush in the parking lot. She throws herself down in the middle of the slush, screaming bloody murder. When the fit is over, she's soaked, and the only way I can get her to calm down is to hold her. Mud and slush all over my new outfit.

We go through the grocery store, and because I had a bizarre headache last night, I decide I need more Sudafed. I knew I had to go to the pharmacy and get it, however, this time, not only did I have to get it from the pharmacy, but I had to give them my ID (which the lady took and CALLED IN to someplace) and fill out a form indicating I was not going to use the Sudafed illegally. No, I won't. But given that it took them fifteen minutes to authorize my purchase of Sudafed, I was very nearly ready to commit a different sort of crime.

By the time we got home, I was ready for a nap. But I had Baby to get to bed, groceries to put away, mail to deal with (including a letter from the state levying the business we closed last year for this year's taxes). I called the state and talked to a very unfriendly woman who, after hearing part of my story, informed me that I needed to be passed on to a caseworker. I ended up having to leave her a voicemail, which has not yet been returned. I was ready for some self medication with my friend Earl Grey, however, Baby is at her door, screaming that she is poopy. I change her and put her back to bed. I look around at the messy house and decide I'd be happiest if I took a nap instead. Baby is in her bed, B won't be home for another hour, life is good, yes?

No.

I close my eyes and I hear the sound of something strange and metallic coming from the Baby's room. I tell her to go to sleep. Then The Dog starts in. Growling at something. I tell him to shut up. He and the baby spend the next hour alternating making enough noise to not let me get any rest. Just as I start dozing off, I hear, "Mom, I'm home!" I get up. And she is yapping about, I don't know, stuff. I'm still comatose. I finally say, "Honey, I love you, I want to hear all about your day, but can you give me a few minutes?" She goes outside to play. I start fixing her snack. Metallic sounds from Baby's room start back up. I go in to see what she's up to. The little terrorist is taking apart the heating duct. We have a long discussion and I put her back to bed. B comes in, I give her the snack, and I decide to escape the sounds of cartoons and head downstairs.

As I'm checking email, my eye starts itching. I check it out, and I realize how pathetic my life is. During my attempted nap, a spider or something bit me under my eye. I now have a lump on the bag under my eye.

So when people talk about conspiracies, like the whole JFK grassy knoll thing, or what really happened at Roswell, I could care less. Frankly, I'm too tired to consider any of it. All I want to know is what I need to do to get some decent sleep!