Incoherent, Who?

So lately I’m having a little trouble putting my thoughts into words.  Or, when I am able to put them into words they don’t make much sense.  Especially on paper, or maybe that’s just because I can go back and see what I’ve tried to say – whereas in conversations, it’s more of a crap shoot of what the other person walked away understanding. 

There is so much going on in our lives right now, things that are keeping me from sleeping well.  Some things, like Blythe waking up every few hours, are understandable – but once I lay back down I just can’t get back to sleep.  WHY I can’t sleep when I’m completely exhausted is beyond me.  I lay there and think and worry, which is my way.  Tired doesn’t even begin to describe the muddled state of my brain.

Some things that I worry about aren’t my stories to share, so I can’t really talk about them here.  But I’m going to write a little bit about the rest of them so that I can just get them out of my brain for a bit, and see if that helps clear up a little space.  And, pardon me if none of them make any sense.

–  We’re purchasing two bank-owned homes in our area.  One of them should close today, the other some time next week, I would guess.  Numero Uno needs a new roof, some fresh paint, and some flooring replaced and then it’s good to go.  We’ve even got prospective tenants already lined up.  Always a good thing!  Especially if they’re willing to put some elbow grease into getting things ready faster. 

Numero Dos requires a WHOLE LOT of freaking work.  I’m talking not just new flooring, but a new FLOOR.  Because you can’t walk around in there without worrying that you’ll fall right through the soft spots.  Also a new roof, new sheet rock in a lot of places where there is water damage, possibly new studs if there’s any dry rot, new paint, new bathroom fixtures, stucco, NEWNEWNEWNEW.  It was a steal of a house, 3 bedrooms 2 baths on a half acre – but some work, let me tell you.  I can’t explain it, but Jeremy and I LOVE the house.  Maybe because we like to see something so… pitiful and unwanted turn into something beautiful.  Ugly duckling syndrome, anyone? 

– Jeremy and I started a charity back in November, called Meat for Dinner.  We’re organizing donations of packaged beef (and possibly other types of meat) from local ranchers and distributing it through the schools in our county to needy children and their families.  We dropped off the first round of donated meat (100 pounds) on the last day of school before winter break.  I’m beyond excited about this, the potential and what it can become.  What keeps me up at night is that I can’t pursue more donations, or push any PR until I finish creating marketing brochures.  My friend Mikah lent me a computer program to help me make them, but so far I haven’t had time.  And, with my current  incoherency issues, should I really be writing marketing brochures?  Hmm.  Still, they need to be done and I lay there at night thinking about what exactly to say other than:  Donate meat so kids can eat.  The end.

– Our neighbor/tenant decided to get into breeding Labrador Retrievers last Spring after taking his dog and two of her puppies back from people who weren’t exactly treating her like the princess she is.  Unfortunately the set up he had arranged for the dogs wasn’t quite ideal for a mama dog and ELEVEN puppies once they got over a certain size.  Since I apparently felt like I wasn’t meeting my daily contact-with-poop quota, I moved them down here and DAMN. 

I clean up poop from sun up to sun down, and then while I’m sleeping they fill the yard with so much shit you would not believe me unless I showed you a picture, but I CAN’T because Alison misplaced my camera the day after Christmas and so I’ve been methodically going through every square inch of the house (purging and cleaning as I go) looking for it, but no luck yet and how, OH HOW am I expected to survive without my camera?  Especially with cute puppies around.  Yes, I still think they are cute even though I spend my days cleaning up after them.  Just not when they step in it or fall in it, and then I have to wash them and dry them before they are considered “cute” instead of “gross”.  Is anyone interested in a cute little lab puppy?  I wish I could show you a picture so you could fall in love and come adopt one next week, and that would be a few less piles for me to clean up.

– Alison.  I spend so much of my time worrying about Blythe, and keeping her safe, dealing with her food allergy exposures, researching what to DO, that Alison gets lost in the shuffle sometimes.  She has her own “special needs”, ones I need to give more attention to and do more research on also, and yet, because they are less immediate, they get pushed to the side.  Before I knew it, she turned 5 and I was like, “What the HELL?” and yet at the same time, I try to think back to when she was 2 and I realize, especially now that I have another child, that Alison was never what you’d call a NORMAL toddler. 

She has always been wise beyond her years and as her mother, I allowed myself to believe that since she understood things at a young age she should be able to act older, too.  I think about the things I expected of her, things I continue to expect of her and I feel ashamed of myself.  There are people three, five, even ten times her age who grasp things just as she does and still don’t have the self control to apply their understanding to every day life.  I worry that I’ve taught her that, in my eyes, her sister can do no wrong and she can do no right.  Which is the absolute LAST thing I ever want her to think, or look back on when she’s older and see plain as day, that that’s how it was even if I didn’t realize it at the time.  So I’m working on it – more patience, more empathy, lower expectations.  She is, after all, FIVE YEARS OLD, regardless of how much higher her IQ is than mine.

– Blythe.  Her exposures seem to be better controlled now, Thank the Universe, and so she’s starting to sleep better, although I’m sure there will continue to be ups and downs.  I am taking a huge leap and enrolling her at our gym’s day care two mornings a week so I can start working out again.  I’ve ordered a special day care kit from the Food Allergy and Anaphylaxis Network so that all of their workers will have knowledge of how serious food allergies are, they will have practiced with an Epi-Pen trainer, and they’ll be well aware of Blythe’s situation.  For my own peace of mind I also made stickers for her to wear that say, “I’m cute, but please don’t fee me!  I’m food allergic”.  I’ll be right there on site, and that makes me a little more comfortable, but I’m also pleased with how willing the staff seems to be in preparing for her.

– My body.  I’ve put my body through hell over the past two years, and it’s starting to let me know, in no uncertain terms, that I’ve got to DO something.  I have cysts the size of golf balls on my ovaries, and they are SO painful at certain times of the month.  When I flex my stomach muscles, my ovaries are clearly visible lumps on my lower abdomen – that’s not normal, it’s freaky.  And did I mention painful? 

Also, apparently, I have some sort of yeast overgrowth and here’s what’s especially interesting about that: did you know that yeast feeds on sugar?  So the more sugar you have in your diet, the more likely you are to have an overgrowth of yeast?  That’s why they put sugar in bread – so the yeast has something to “feed” on.  I learn something new every day, I tell ya.  So my hormones are all out of whack, and I’m consuming too much sugar.  The recommended action on my part: Increase my lean protein intake, quit eating like a PIG, cut back on sugar (man I used to be so good about not consuming much sugar, and now I’m an addict), take probiotics, exercise.  All that sounds well and good, so what am I waiting for?  GAH.

– CONGRATULATIONS if you made it this far.  You deserve a prize.  Maybe I’ll send you all my sugary snacks.  But don’t be surprised if there are bites taken out of them.