Along with good Lord, oy is one of my favorite expressions and comments. We had one of those darkest hour before dawn kind of mornings this morning, beginning around 4:00 am when I woke up with a start and heard The Husband shuffling down the hall, the sound of Sophie humming and the hacking cough of Oliver. I got up to investigate which included asking The Husband why the television was on, its blue light flickering and he replied that Oliver was up and that he was up and that Sophie was up.
I went to the boys' room, where Oliver was sitting up in bed with his bedside light on and flooding the room with light. Turn the light OFF! I hissed, and silently handed him a cupful of Boiron's Honey Cough Syrup. It's day four of Oliver's cold, and while I've been the model of compassion and sympathy during the day with him, he tends to milk the illness for all it's worth and in so doing, my compassion and sympathy leak away. I'm afraid that he's already showing signs of a "bad" sick person and will, I'm certain, morph into a guy who has Man Colds. I pity his future partner.
I then walked out of his room and into Sophie's where I found her walking around, humming and shivering in the cold, so I put her back in bed and climbed in beside her, curled around her and closed my eyes in a vain attempt to go back to sleep.
This is where the dark night of the soul comes in, when all rational thought slips out and worries and anxieties slip in, as well as inane questions that slither around the room, under my eyelids and into my brain. I guess Oliver isn't going to school tomorrow, again. I can't believe The Husband can lie on the couch and watch silent tv at 5 am. How am I going to drive Henry four times to the westside a week and back for practices and pick Oliver up from rehearsals for the whole month? If I were like Serena Williams' mother who drove her and her sister constantly around to play tennis, would Henry be a better lacrosse and baseball player? Have I dedicated myself enough to helping him fulfill his dreams? This is so not mindful to lie here and think these stupid thoughts. Breathe. Now I can't go to the conservator workshop tomorrow morning and will have to go next Friday. What if I don't get it done, Sophie turns eighteen and has a medical emergency the day after and I can't make decisions for her? Should I make Oliver go to school tomorrow even though he's been up half the night, coughing? Will I ever exercise again? I shouldn't have eaten so many of those chocolate covered almonds. How much Onfi is left before I have to do that whole Canadian thing again? I haven't put Sophie's orthotics on enough this week. Why is The Husband snoring and why doesn't he fold the afghans up and lay them over the couch when he goes to bed? Why do I always fluff the pillows in the morning?
You get the drift. Good Lord.
So, the morning is here. Oliver is home and I've put off my workshop and sent Sophie and Henry to school. The Husband is grumpy but will soon leave the house, too, and I'll be stuck here filling out financial aid forms and tending to the Boy with the Man Cold.
"poor little bunny" Sorry, I love the man-cold video. I feel terrible that you are sleep deprived and overloaded with caregiving... and then the endless stream of thoughts that never seem to cease. Just remember that's all they are... thoughts. Your mind doing it's job but not being very helpful. Take care and I'm sending healing "thoughts" your way.ReplyDelete
I hate to admit this but I must. In my house, I am the one who is the big baby when it comes to illness. My husband simply refuses to submit to illness which also drives me crazy.ReplyDelete
Anyway, I've been doing the most inane, simplistic thing to get back to sleep and banish the four-in-the-morning crazy thoughts. I almost hate to tell you what it is, but it works for me:
Take any grouping of things. Men's names. Women's names. Fruits. Vegetables. Plants. Whatever.
Go through the alphabet and list one thing from that group for each letter.
Alfred, Bob, Carl, David, Eugene...all the way to Zebidiah. I never get to Z.
Or Amy, Betty, Chrissie, Danielle...
Artichokes, Bok Choy, Carrots, Daikon radish, and so forth. Worth a try? Maybe?
Oy, indeed. I hate those mornings, too, but I am more likely to keep myself awake out of anxiety because I know that often, my deepest sleep and most amazing dreams come in that hour before the alarm goes off and I'm terrified that if I succumb to sleep again that I'll miss the alarm sound or I will be so deeply asleep that it will be nearly impossible for me to get up when I have to.ReplyDelete
I hope Oliver feels better soon. That man-cold thing is a real phenomenon. We are all girls in this house except for Bubba and he is by far the biggest baby when it comes to being sick. Except when there is something REALLY wrong that might indicate something serious - then he is stoic to the point of ignoring it while I race around wondering when the sky will fall on us all.
I suppose those early, early morning hours are the richest hours of the day for me. I often am very often flooded with anxious mutterings but once in a while during that sliver of time between slumber and waking I am privy to that wise voice within that enlightens and steers me towards love.ReplyDelete
That is my very favorite video ever, thanks to Ms Heather, and it has been the only thing that prevented me from smothering my own poor little bunny with his virus laden pillow this winter. Well, that and jail, and leaving my children parentless. Oy! What is it about the boys?ReplyDelete
i loved hearing that stream of consciousness because it was familiarReplyDelete
i read a book called you are not your brain and it really helped me separate myself from those downward spirals of thought -- so a part of me could say -- oh, it's just my brain backfiring again -- it's not me! xo
Oy Vey, Doll! Truly a dark night, or at least early morning, of the soul. Here's wishing you a relaxing weekend. x0x0 N2ReplyDelete
Dear Elizabeth, the particulars of our lives may differ, but Lordy, we are sisters in the mind. You are not alone. And what Bloom says above, about the mind backfiring again. Well, I think I need to look into that.ReplyDelete
Gawd. Eat more of those chocolate almond thingys. Right away. And drink somethin'.ReplyDelete
Oy! After reading this post, I just want to crawl in bed and it's only 5:30 p.m.!! I hope you will be awakened tomorrow with sunshine streaming through your window.ReplyDelete
Oy vey indeed. I have those thoughts as well.ReplyDelete
Oh Elizabeth, our minds have minds of their own, don't they? I don't know how to leash mental wanderings.ReplyDelete
Hope Oliver gets well fast.
Might be comforting if you could blame the epidemic of household wakefulness on the phase of the moon. There's always a phase of the moon so there's always hope for change.
Well, you know how much I love this video. Makes me laugh every. single .time.ReplyDelete
Hope Oliver is better soon and you, you I send continued prayers of stamina for this wild ride.
Oy indeed! I like Ms Moon's suggestion. I'm going to try that one myself when I have one of these kinds of mornings.ReplyDelete
My favourite commercial is the man who is sick in bed. To his wife he says, "Pam. Pam. Can you call my mom?" ha!ReplyDelete
Elizabeth, your time away in Canada can not come a moment too soon. You sound so weary.
Loved reading your thought process. Isn't that just how it goes?! Lovely video. Very accurate.ReplyDelete
Man girl. Thank God you have that trip.ReplyDelete
Love you, T
i absolutely LOOOVE the man cold. thank you for resurrecting. xoxoxoReplyDelete
p.s. my lame ass still has not sent the frisium.
Oy. (I say it a lot, too.)ReplyDelete