a case of the crazies
in an attempt to prove myself a super hero and get over my knee injury, i went sans vicodin yesterday afternoon and evening. i have a tendency to do this when overcoming an injury.
i sum up my super-healing powers (paul thinks i have said powers) and prove myself to be a rockstar. this occurred when i was in the hospital, post c-section. i took nothing other than an 800 mg ibuprofen. i know. i’m a little kooky when it comes to this… a little competitive… and quite possibly on the verge of being certifiably nuts.
so last night, i go sans vicodin, and instead i ice my knee while watching a movie with paul and enjoying some good brews.
i know, i know, you’re not supposed to drink when taking pain killers… but i hadn’t taken one since yesterday morning. i was in the clear. totally in the clear.
or so i thought…
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this morning paul asks, “do you remember asking me ‘whose tiara are you wearing’ last night?”
i respond with, “you’re joking right. i mean seriously. i didn’t even take a vicodin!!! c’mon!!!”
“so what else did i say?” i ask paul, feeling like he will soon have me committed for my sleep crazies.
paul says, ” well, i was like, ‘what do you mean?’ and you said ‘yeah, just check the time and date on the tiara to see whose it is.‘”
i went back to sleep. my husband laughed at me and then rolled back over.
great, just another crazy sleep story to add to my collection.
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in terms of my knee, i’m totally challenging myself and going sans vicodin… reason being that sunday is octoberfest, and dammit-to-hell, i’m going. we live within walking distance (though this may be more of a negative than a positive in my case) and i’m determined to go and partake in the beers and sausages.
today will be my trial period… going sans vicodin. i mean, it’s for a good cause…
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so who lost their tiara and lent it to paul last night???
wakey wakey
uh, there's something in my pants that needs immediate attention
seriously guys... code brown.
dammit, i'll just go take care of it myself. you guys suck.
earplugs, twitter, and wine
yup… at 2:45 in the afternoon.
if you’re judging me already after just reading the title and first sentence of this post… STOP READING.
magoo should’ve been sleeping for the last hour and 15 minutes. instead, he has decided to scream. i cannot for the life of me figure out why, but that’s what he is doing. screaming as though i am an axe murderer about to wail on him (which quite honestly, i’m considering.)
so i wait a while… cuz i honestly do have work that needs to get done. jackson’s nap times are when i can get that work done unless i stay up all hours of the night, which in turn makes me pretty worthless the following day in terms of care-taking for the magoo. i was for a while. i tweet some funny ha-ha anecdotes like this… and then this…
which of course leads to responses like this… this… and this.
the magoo continues to wail. so i go in. i do the obligatory poop diaper check. all clear. i reattach the pacifier leash to his onesie that he pulled off in his mad fury of anger. pop in the pacifier, and he collapses on my shoulder.
for a moment… just a moment… i think to myself, “phew… ok, we’re good.”
i lay the magoo down and AS SOON as this belly hits the mattress of his crib, he pops up like jackie chan, begins banging on the crib rails, SCREAMING like a non-hot chick in a horror film, and stomping his feet up and down.
and up and down.
and up and down.
so i leave. i walk out.
i am that mom.
and now i sit on my couch, with purple earplugs stuffed into my ears (as though the harder i push them in my ears, the less i’ll hear jackson scream), a glass of wine, and my computer, twittering to other moms who get me.
really get me.
cuz, ya know… not all of them do.
*sigh* so… back to that book review….
sleepy time
i do weird things in my sleep. it’s been noted on here before. and i’m ok with it. my sleeping issues just come with who i am. love it or leave it. i know that my sleepy time can sometimes cause trouble, if not induce hysterical laughter in those who witness said sleepy time.
when i was a kid, i was really sick with the flu… i had a bad fever that wouldn’t break, and i can remember laying on the couch, 1/2 asleep and telling my mom that i was sinking into the couch.
“it’s like the couch is quicksand,” i told her in a fuzzy feverish haze.
“ok, nic,” replied mom, who probably then just gave me some more tylenol and put a cold wash cloth on my head.
once i finally fell asleep though, truly asleep, i started talking to her. and mom remembers my exact words… phrases… whatever you want to call it…
“asbusssbusssbusssas bosssbusssasssbusss.”
fast forward to nic as a teenager with anxiety issues kicking in to full gear. it was the night before a test i had at school. i don’t remember the subject, the test, or the teacher the test was for… because any and all tests freaked me out to the point of me blowing in and out of a paper bag, as mom drove me to school.
anyway, the night before this test, in the middle of the night… i took a shower and got ready for school. (i don’t remember doing this, but my mom recalls hearing my hairdryer at 3 am and coming up to my room, wondering what the hell i was doing.) supposedly she told me to change out of my school uniform and go back to bed… i did so with a 1/2 wet head, which made for some sexy looking bed head the next day, which every teenage girl wants to go to school with.
fast forward a few years beyond that, and you have a college-age nic with PTSD as a result of being raped. (i promise i’m going somewhere funny with this guys, stick with me.) at that point in time, i had been prescribed sleeping meds because obviously i was not sleeping at night. like at all.
so one night, paul’s visiting me at auburn, shacking up for the weekend, and i tell him i’m about to take my sleeping pill and go to bed. once i took this pill (which shall remain nameless), i got in bed, laid down, and then sat straight up.
“do you see that baby in the corner,” i asked paul.
paul said nothing in response, and i imagine looked at me like i was a freaking lunatic.
“don’t you see it?” i persisted… “the baby, in the corner. right there. it’s looking right at us.”
the next morning, paul told me what i did and how i freaked the hell out of him, talking about people in the room who weren’t there (“i see dead people…”)
paul has come to know and love my sleepy time shenanigans. i mean their kinda funny sometimes… like when i wake up with no underwear and have no idea why.
well, i have a lot going on right now, as most people do… we lead busy lives. i’m running this website, as well as another with a good friend, and i have side projects going on here and there…
i learned the other night, that i need to stop my writing loooong before bed time. i had written a post for Blogher@Home about vibrators and dildos. (my parents and in-laws are totally hanging their heads in shame as they read this, i’m sure.) it was late at night when i wrote the post. i was so back-logged with emails and deadlines after coming off vacay, that i wrote the post around midnight, just to get it posted… just to “git her done.”
then i went to bed. paul had already been in bed for a while, as he has given up on me going to bed with him when he knows i’m up “working.”
the next morning, paul is feeding jackson and i wander out to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.
paul: “dude… do you remember what you did last night?” (chuckling as he asks)
me: “oh shit. no. what’d i do this time?”
paul: “you were crowding me on my side of the bed, so i pushed your shoulder and asked you to move over…” (chuckles continue) “once you moved over, you looked at me and said ‘CHECK THIS OUT BITCHES!‘”
which is exactly what i had tweeted to advertise the vibrator giveaway at Blogher@Home.
those of you who are heading to chicago this weekend for BlogHer ’09 just wish you were going to be rooming with me… yeah. you know it’s true.
Have a Sip
