Insomnia

Isn't it great how the mind works. You can pretty much think something and it becomes true. Here it is too, way too, early in the morning and I can either lay in bed and not sleep or I can get up and do things and not sleep. I usually get up and find nothing to do on the computer. The thing that really sucks about this morning is, most of the time when I am unfortunate enough to be unable to sleep at this time, I have gone to bed at what I call a decent hour. Decent hours are usually before 9 p.m.. Last night I laid in bed and watched stupid TV until 12:30. It was a total waste of my time and now I wish I had just switched the darn thing off and slept. I could have then. I will need to be especially vigilant tomorrow when dealing with the kids and I will rely heavily on coffee. My patience level is going to be low, but, the coconut cream I have for the coffee is so good.
I do not remember complaining so much about being bored when I was little. My five year old is constantly complaining about nothing to do and having no one to play with. What?? Use your imagination kid and leave your tired mom alone for a few minutes. In all fairness though, he just sometimes wants to get out. Connor is one of the things that is keeping me up tonight. I know I need to get out of the house. I do not get out often enough, but whenever I go, I hear can I have this or that. Did I train him like that? Yeah, I guess I did. I am trying to figure out how to untrain him now. If you throw Miss Molinska into the deal, then it becomes a two ativan day and that is bad. Ativan impedes my ability to drink wine. I love wine and anything that hampers it is bad. I am lucky to be able to have one glass. One glass of wine is like one bite of cheesecake. It is impossible for me to do.
I was also thinking about another blog I read today, a lady who feeds her kids to the Presbyterians (Connor got sent to school with Presbyterians and Molly will go this year. If I would have known they eat kids, I would have sent Molly sooner.). I read a ways back and was shocked to hear her complain about her weight at a size 8. I can not even pull size eight jeans up my thighs. What the hell is the matter with woman. Believe me though, it is the matter with me sometimes too. The majority of the time I can revel in my body. My husband has been good for me in that way. He likes and encourages me to be bigger than I am. How lucky can one girl get? I also know that my body is utilitarian and has produced two children. The later child also pretty much wrecked it for good. I appreciate the belly hang, the road maps of stretch marks and the wider hips, but some days I wish I could travel back in time a few years and wear a size 8. I keep coming back to that more when I think about getting into dating again. I am really not into dating again yet. I do like male attention, I would like some kissing and sex too, companionship would be nice, but it is more stress on top of healing from a crappy marriage. I need to feel as though I have a little control over my life right now, even though, I am intellectually aware of the fact that no one has control. I think only my husband can look at me and actually appreciate my pregnancy ravaged body and the chronic conditions that came with bearing two kids. I mean, I did him the best turn in the world, giving him those kids. (Side note, it is 4.20.) What other man will look at those things and see the self described flaws for what they really are? I know a man is out there, but my stupid self image thing, maybe self confidence, makes me question. Everytime I go somewhere though and relax and have fun and get more into myself than my stupid marriage, I feel better about those type of things. I gain back some of my lost self. I feel like I lost a lot of self. Fuck that. Fuck him and fuck me for allowing it. While I am at it, fuck my parents for their lack of telling me what a lovely person I was inside and out. I am glad they finally got off that band wagon and can now appreciate the person I am.
I had the opportunity this past weekend to go to a wedding. Being recently separated, I feared being bitter and I did make some bitter comments but the underlying feeling, the real bitterness was not there, I just like sarcasm. It was such a affirmation of relationships for me. People can and do function together quite nicely sometimes and I am sure that, even though I am a bit off as a person, I will eventually be with someone I can function with. I left the celebration feeling so good, the energy there was so positive and loving. It just sucks admitting defeat and coming to terms with, and sticking to those terms when a relationship is ending. I am married! I got married. I chose to and now shouldn't I have to make a go of it for my entire life like I promised. I knew full well what I was getting into. The particular roller coaster of marriage, in my opinion, is not one to get off lightly. I chose the route of blinders though. That route has continually gotten me into trouble in life. I vow never to do that again. I vow to look at all important issues and if they are not addressed to my satisfaction, I vow to move on to the next toad. The older I get the more straight forward I become. Sometimes I have to force the openness, but I plan on doing just that. If I am open and honest then in turn (hopefully) a potential mate will be. OK, the right mate for me will be able to do that. I do not want any of this cryptic bullshit and having to read between the lines. I am going to be on the same damn planet as who ever I am with for a change. Say it like it is people, it can be done and still have kindness at the same time.
Our marriage counselor dumped us last week. I mean, whose counselor dumps them? Sorry, you are too fucked up, I can not help, good luck out there in the cold world. I guess she saw it. Byron does not see it. He sees us being able to keep slugging it out. He sees us (being insane like he is) having more kids. I can not believe a man that was so absent through out my pregnancies and the infancies of my kids would think that even if I wanted another kid, which I do not, that I would have one with him. I would have to be totally in love, head of heels for someone who did not have any of their own. Then, maybe a 5% chance, I would change my mind and agree to think about another kid. I am too tired as it is and for some reason, my Molly, seems to be wired a lot like me and it is very frightening. The older they get, the worse it is and the more junk to worry about. This entire school thing has taught me that I am not immune to being what I consider "that type of parent". I really, really wanted Connor to get into SAGE and thank God for answering my prayers, he did. I thought that I would be content with a neighborhood school for him, but after hearing about the wonderful school experience he could have, I needed him to be there. I would have cried, really cried, if he had not got in. It made me see that, the more opportunities that come their way, the more I am only gong to want them to have the best. I know that is natural, but not always possible, so I also want them to learn to effectively deal with not always being in the best circumstances. I know life is sometimes crappy and I want to teach them not to wallow in it if it does not work out for them the way they want it. Right now, Connor hides when things do not go his way and Molly throws whatever she has around her, then throws her body too. Neither way seems very effective to me, but I guess I sometimes hide and or throw temper tantrums, so they come by it naturally.
I have now wasted enough time so that my morning paper could be delivered. One of the positive things of insomnia is I get to sit in my quiet, straightened up home and drink my coffee without having to get up for anything and read my daily dose of horror in one sitting. Some days I am lucky to finish the damn thing before bed. It just sits open on the kitchen counter and I can maybe read a small story an hour.