Crazy Woman

Although grateful to have time by myself to work on recovering fromt the flu yesterday, during my waking hours I found myself struggling. I knew the day's pupose was to drink fluids, keep up on meds, and rest. But oh, the things I could get done without the preferable albeit time-consuming work of caring for a 3-month-old! Not to mention that saying goodbye to my little guy (and my big one, too) for the entire day left me a little sad, and the distraction of a project would be a welcome one.

So yes, I did nap, and I read a lot...but then I tackled my closet. It began with an innocent, manageable goal of doing some quiet laundry. Maybe a load or two. Or four, actually. But then as I began to hang up clothes on my side of the closet, I began sorting. And pitching. A pile of maternity clothes for a likely someday. A pile of summer clothes (snow on the ground in October signals to me that it's possible I may not be wearing shorts for a while). A pile for Goodwill. Even a pile in the garbage, for nasty, worn-out clothes that I had dumb intentions of using for "work-out attire" or "sleep-wear." I'm only two years into my marriage; I cannot resort to a ratty "I Love New York" tee and call it sexy, it's just not fair to my husband.

I went crazy, really, because then I tackled the floor of the closet. It was littered with an assortment of work-out and travel bags containing random items of swimsuits, sunscreen, extra shampoo, some quarters and pens, and other hidden treasures I had been looking for since for-ever. A trip to the garage to toss the garbage and several overhauls and re-packing of tupperware bins and drawers later, I was finished. It was awesome. I couldn't stop staring, really. It was so clean that it reminded me of the days when our home was being built; every time we visited to view the progress, I danced in the closet. I never thought in my life that I'd own a walk-in closet. I was so excited that I re-named it a dance-in closet and spun around and around inside its walls. Okay, so it's not pristine enough any more to spin inside without getting my hair caught in hangers, but it makes me want to dance anyway.

Am I pregnant again? Because wanting to tackle a project like this is not like me. I avoid things like this like the plague that has now overcome my immune system of late. And the other day I did this to the pantry. The pantry, people! The most daunting of areas, as its door of frosted glass conceals anything you want to hide away, like leftover Easter (yes, Easter) candy, 3 half-eaten bags of pretzels, and cans of black beans that expired 2 years ago. Expired canned goods- now that's bad.

It's like I'm nesting again, because today I was deciding between overhauling the bathroom shelves and drawers or getting my craft room re-organized. Michael and Ollie are in Mankato today visiting Grandma and Grandpa Childe, and I am purposefully left behind to avoid contaminating others and resume the prescription of fluids and, oh yeah, rest.

So I vowed to rest as much as possible, and then maybe work on a project if I felt up to it. The only problem is that I got 2.5 hours of sleep last night. I couldn't drift off for love or money, or healing for that matter. Was it because of the nebulizer treatments I was doing every 4 hours, which speed up my heart rate and make me jittery? At times I wonder if the medication is actually a tiny inhaled version of Red Bull. That could be it, but its effects should be wearing off eventually...and then I realized what it was. Prednisone. The steroid that has the weirdest span of side-effects. I have never heard of anyone taking Prednisone and not finding anything wonky with their body. Common side-effects include increased appetite, insomnia, agitation, and severe mood swings, sometimes even causing a person to feel like they're going crazy.

I wouldn't call my closet and pantry sessions crazy. I would call them productive and successful. But I am, officially, an insomniac until I stop wheezing and don't need the Prednisone any longer. I took Melatonin, a natural sleep aid, at 5 am this morning, after several cycles of lying in bed trying to sleep, then waking up to read. It is now nearly 9am. Good morning! I think finally my body just might be giving up and shutting down though, as I'm beginning to feel a little numb-tingly and I'm seeing some spots in my peripheral vision (sorry for any spelling mishaps, you'll just have to deal today). Hopefully I'll wake up in time for bedtime tonight.

Oh, and good news: Oliver has successfully slept in his crib for the third night in a row. When I traded in more attempts to try to drift off this morning for breakfast, an irony which I will find funny someday occurred to me. As I peanut-buttered my panacke, I mused that Oliver is able to sleep in his crib finally, but now I can't sleep in mine.