where wildly different is perfectly normal
Watch out, she’s gonna blow
Watch out, she’s gonna blow

Watch out, she’s gonna blow

Dear god give me strength I am going to snap and I should probably apologize in advance to everyone nearby because shards of me are likely to go flying and lodge themselves into someone’s eyeball.

Perhaps I should explain before the snappage occurs.

Climb into the WayBack Machine, and travel with me twelve years ago or so. I was a new momma, with a six month old child who was finally starting to sleep. Or rather, was finally starting to sleep without the benefit of me under, beside, or near him. It was glorious. I could pee without an infant strapped to my chest. There was sleep, glorious sleep, that could almost be called a full night’s slumber. There was the rare escape to the store by myself, just because it could be done.

Travel back with me ten or so years. Said infant is now a toddler and naps in the afternoon, and has as well what could almost be called a reasonable bedtime. My brain started to get back in gear.

Nine years ago. Back to square one with infant and the holy terror as yet undiagnosed twice-exceptional preschooler. No sleep. No alone time.

Four years ago. They sleep at night. They’re at school during the day. I’m working part time and while stressed to an unhealthy level by the incessant needs of two young kids, I’m sleeping at night and thinking during the day.

Present day. One goes to bed at 8:30, the other can’t sleep and stays awake until the wee hours (but pops out on a fairly regular basis to pee/eat/drink water/share an idea/see what we’re doing). The earlier sleeper is roused at 7 am for school; the other is roused at 7:45, 8:00, 8:30, 8:51, 9:08, 9:32, and 10:01, at varying levels of intensity and volume. The later rouser shares every thought that pops into his head. All.Damned.Day.Long. The schooled child returns home on the big yellow cracker box at 3:10, and the bickering sibling portion of the day commences. For five hours. Then the one goes to bed at 8:30, and the other can’t sleep….lather, rinse, repeat. See where this is going?

There is no SHUT THE EFF UP AND QUIT TALKING TO ME SO I CAN THINK AND FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY WILL YOU JUST DO YOUR DAMNED WORK ALREADY? down time during the day or GET IN BED AND FOR GOD’S SAKE STAY THERE down time at night. As I type this I have sound-reducing headphones with calming music blasting through the earpieces for some solitude. Yes, I am blasting New Age spa music through headphones for some peace. SERENITY NOW!

It’s been this way for awhile, but the cumulative effects are just now taking a toll. I’m grumpy, scatterbrained, and entirely unable to complete a

I’ve begged for solitude, I’ve demanded quiet, I’ve insisted that every thought does not need to be shared, I’ve run off to the library for a break. I’m left alone while practicing my flute, which leads me to believe that if I just play recorded practice sessions I might be left alone with my brain for a bit. I know a big part of the problem is that my office is in the middle of the living room, and even when I’m working (or attempting to) I’m seen as available. And I know another big part of the problem is that I try to multitask homeschooling with working, rather than blocking off specific times for each. But I know the biggest part of the problem is a certain tween boy with executive function issues who needs a whole lot of assistance and educational scaffolding and also has little sense of personal boundaries.

I’m working on solutions for all parts of this particular problem, but they’re all knotted up with other issues and untangling them all is going to take awhile. In the meantime, I suggest safety goggles when you’re in my vicinity. I just can’t be responsible for your corneas when I finally shatter from frustration.


    1. Jen

      We have, it just doesn’t work for him. 🙁 Benadryl does, but I use that as a last resort. He’s just never needed a whole lot of sleep; typical gifted kid pattern. Exhausts me.

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