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Keeping My Fingers Crossed

My alarm blared at 5:30 a.m. catapulting me from slumber. It’s amazing how quickly my body adjusts to more sleep. I took Friday and Monday off, and while I didn’t sleep in compared to most people, I still managed to get at least a half hour to an hour of extra zzz’s every night. Saturday was the only day I used my alarm clock, which gave me three days with waking without this mechanical torture device.

The last two nights before I’ve gone to sleep, I’ve practiced some meditation. I plugged into my tunes and covered my eyes with a little I Love Lucy-esque slumber mask and tried to empty my mind. It worked pretty well. But I have to remember not to begin too early in the evening because I usually fall asleep before I can push the last cleansing breath from my body, but I look at sleep as a success as long as it doesn’t happen before about 10 p.m.

I think I need that calming time because the crazies are running rampant again in our house. I’m not fully sure I can take the entire blame, but I must admit that I regularly douse the flames with gasoline. Why, why, why?

How can I be a peaceful, reflective soul enjoying time with my family on a sunny afternoon embracing the illumination that comes when I see a small furry spider dart among a crates of rotting apples at the orchard, to a fanatical lunatic that would sooner poke these same people in the eyes with sharp instruments rather than throw a kind word their way? It’s baffling.

In all honesty, we should have put a halt to the outing before it began. I attribute the first part of the ruffled collars to the hormonal teenage son pushing, figuratively of course, the hormonal middle-aged mom. Therein lays the reason that people should either opt to have children very early or very late in life. Sure, I thought I would be more mature if I waited until I was 30 or so to have a baby; however, math was not my strong suit, and I never calculated when said child would be a teen, nor did I think that this peri, post or caught-in-the-middle-wanting-to-chomp-off-the-head-of-a-baby-squirrel mood swings I experience would be this intense.

Having two people in the house with uncontrollable hormones is not wise on the best of days. I’m surprised that Lyle hasn’t killed us both or at minimum kicked us to the curb. Hell, he’d probably be doing us both a favor. Today is a new day. Here’s hoping for the best.


2 Responses

  1. Ah – teenagers:(

  2. Yep, after the evening I had I ended up talking to another mom of a teen and at least I knew I wasn’t the only one…

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