I’m jet lagged AF … but I’m trying to make it work for me.
Sideboob beat jet lag by going to a concert at Redrocks the night after she got home from Norway. One might think there is folly in this plan but it was actually genius. She stayed up until midnight and was immediately back on schedule the next day. No jet lag.
Me? Day three of being home and I’m still passing out at 7:00 and wide awake by 3:30am. I guess outdoor concerts where the only non-standing option is a flagstone bench is less conducive to sleeping than a chicken documentary in my living room.
I freely admit that she’s much smarter than me.
I like being up early, though. I get that superior feeling of having gone for a 3 mile walk, cleaned the kitchen, done the laundry, taken care of the chickens, gone to the store, harvested three pies worth of cherries from the neighbor’s tree (under the cover of dark no less), pitted the cherries and made filling. All before 8am.
Talk to me at 6pm and see how good I’m feeling.
Scheissehund needed to go out around 7pm yesterday and got me up from my
deep sleep movie. I stumbled outside with him when I heard someone yell my name.
It was My Parasitic Twin.
Oh god please no. Where can I hide? I was so fucking tired that I couldn’t bear the thought of conversation. Sensing weakness she said, “This is how I feel bitch when you come into my house screaming at me at eight in the morning!” I was too exhausted to come back with a snappy reply.
“Um, no it isn’t.”
I’m pretty much biding my time until my kids go camp for two weeks. We have been literally on top of each other for the last week. Our cruise cabin – though spacious – is still more cramped than we are used to and I’m not really a 24/7 kinda gal, I need a little space.
Of course my kids are balls of manic energy. I dragged Itchy to the vet yesterday for Bates’ check-up and to see what’s going on with Scheissehund’s fur. Despite the antihistamines and elimination diet, his fur situation is getting worse.
The vet came to the conclusion that it might be a hormonal imbalance (hence his huge nipples – don’t ask) or it’s all in his head.
Of course it is.
While the vet checked out the cat and the dog, Itchy just chattered away with asinine anecdotes about someshit and I could see the vet being really patient but her face said, “Can I please get back to sticking things up your cat’s ass?”
The long and the short of it is that now both my dog AND I are on Prozac which is awesome and makes complete sense. I hope works as well for him as it does for me because being furry is 99% of his appeal because it sure ain’t his personality.
Meanwhile I’ve been trying to exhaust the kids with minimal physical exertion on my part because did I tell you? I’M FUCKING EXHAUSTED!
Today grabbed some extra kids and dragged them to Chautauqua where I spread out a blanket in the shade and watched them attack each other with foam swords.
Then I grabbed some more kids and took them to the pool … where I am now … blogging because goddamnit I can’t sleep.
Itchy learned how to do flips from the sweetest and most precocious kid …
I told MPT that I might turn to pharmaceuticals.
“What, like trucker speed?” she asked.
“ARE YOU INSANE?! Can you imagine ME on speed? I was thinking a Tylenol PM around 11am to knock me out until 1:00 and maybe I’ll have a chance of making it until 9:00.”
But oops, it’s 1:30 and I’m swarmed with kids and I don’t see a nap in my future. Fuck.
Or as Edison Chen says in Rich People Problems, “Fucky fuck.”
I’m hoping that the combination of running around in 100 degree heat, sun, swimming and swordplay will render my kids, if not mellow, at least quiet.
If not you can bet that I’ll be hitting up Brandi’s cherry tree tomorrow for more future pies.
Oh, and I made these.