Sleepless in... well it sure ain't Seattle!

It is 4.44am here. I have had about a combined hour of dozing if I am lucky. Yay me! Well, actually this one can be chalked down to Boy 1. He was having one of our rare sleep n the big bed with Mum nights. Except he did not sleep. Finally, at 3.30am I kicked him off to his own bed, but I am now past any hope of getting to sleep. And my own sleep issues have meant this is the last thing I needed in my exhausted state.

My mind is ticking over events of the last few months. Today I sat on the floor of our bedroom and sobbed my heart out. I cried for Lori and Lulu, for the horrific disaster unfolding along the East coast of our beautiful country, and for me. I have not really cried since Mum died, it is like I am frozen in coping land and the tears are locked deep within my icy heart. This is not good, I know this is not healthy but it seems to be the way I am made.

My tears were released because I lost my engagement ring. My fingers have swollen in the humidity and for the first time ever I had great trouble getting the ring off my finger (I don't sleep in it). So last week I had to use loads of hand cream to get it off and I wrapped it in some tissue to clean. And then was distracted and forgot about it. Stupid, eh?

And of course, the tissue was thrown away. And the rubbish had been collected. Now I know, as Big Boy repeated time and time again as he held me sobbing, enclosed tightly in his loving arms, it is only an object.

But to me it is a solid reminder of so much. Of the love I have for my husband. Of the joy of our wedding. Of Wise Woman who was with us when it was being designed, and without whom it would not be at all (yes, I threw a litle tanty at a shopping centre - think this will have to be my Memoir Monday this week).

It triggered thoughts of Lori, burying her soul mate she was meant to grow old with, of my sister who only ever wanted to get married and have kids and wasn't given the time to, and of course of Lulu, saying farewell to her sibling and the bewilderment of loss.

And so I sat on the carpet and let the pain consume me. I am still raw. And tired. Really could have used some healing sleep to allow me to escape reality for a little. Obviously not in the plans of the higher gods tonight, or should I say today as the sun rises.

We found it. The ring. In the wastepaper basket beside my desk - the one bin I had not emptied before the rubbish was collected. Sitting on the bottom underneath the tissue. But by then, although relieved, it was no longer the issue and the pain had been allowed to escape my iron-clad stronghold and it may never be locked away again. I do not know right now if that is a good or bad thing, but time will tell. And to be honest I feel it is a little self-indulgent to even be posting about it when others are facing such immense loss.

A sombre, tired, emotionally drained,

Things are bad...

I think the capacity we have as humans for endurance of the untenable is incredible. I think this capacity is highly diminished by lack of sleep. As the wheels fall off and the amount of sleep permitted by a combination of our oldest sleep walking, changing beds and waking the household at ungodly hours, is reduced well beyond what is possible to function on... I am losing my ability to sleep, and in turn, my rationality.

I can see why this is used as a tool of torture.

That is all. Epic household fail.

A Very Tired Mother of Mad, Thinking About Her Old Grumblebum Dad.

Cannot think. Can barely speak. Am tired beyond comprehension. Was tired yesterday after the mad social lives of Boy 1 and Boy 2 these holidays but then last night, well last night was a disaster. Boy 1 suffered nightmares, sleepwalking and anxiety, Boy 2 came down in the late hours, unable to sleep without Boy 1. I ended up on lounge, then gave up and did computer stuff instead.

So please forgive if todays warm and fuzzy five family entry is purely fuzzy. I am in a fog.

And when I am tired and feeling wussy I think about my Dad. Grumblebum, the eternal pessimist (yes Big Boy, I do KNOW where it comes from).

 I wrote about us here. True story, and one of my first and fondest memories of GB. Other, more vague recollections, are of being carried along the beach on GB's broad shoulders feeling as tall as a giant; and of climbing up his trouser leg when he would not pick me up as demanded. He smelled of cigarette smoke and Brylcream and had a loud, booming voice.

Grumblebum was a big man in every way. Stood six foot two, wore XXXL at one stage later in life. Until the cancer shrank him back down to an XL. Even at his funeral we needed six pallbearers to carry his diminished frame.

Straight shooter, typical no bull cow cocky (though Wise Woman made him move to town for her). Worked hard all his life. Played hard too. Was of the era that the blokes went to the club whilst the little woman stayed home. Of course once I hit eighteen that all changed. When I was little they called me "Dad's Boy", being the mad tomboy I loved it. When I grew up it became "The Offsider". Just as appreciated.

One of his proudest moments was me up on stage at my wedding calling the barn dances. Well someone had to take control, the bloody DJ had no idea and the whole thing was rapidly turning into a shemozzle. So I did. And he loved it. Dad's Boy in her full wedding regalia, microphone in hand..."with a one-two-three kick, back two-three kick..."

A chip off the old block.

I love you Dad, I even miss the arguments, you cranky old bugger.

Now This is Getting Ridiculous!

1.30 am? ONE THIRTY IN THE BLINKING MORNING? You have to be kidding me! Someone in the realms of the Gods is having a very fine time amusing themselves at my expense.

Oi. You up there. I do not cope with sleep deprivation and my family would appreciate it if you would bleedin' well CUT IT OUT!

Awwww, crap. How in the hell am I meant to function with only a few hours sleep for the SECOND night in a row? Come... on!

When did I start rising

with the sun?

I have never been a morning person, not even in toddlerhood. My mother takes great delight in telling all and sundry about her constant battles to get me to sleep (she is an early to bed, early to rise advocate), and her endless mornings trying to get me to wake. I was one of those kids whose parents stumble past their bedroom on a wee hours wee run to find said child with torch under the covers still reading. At 2am.

My body clock was thus perfectly synchronised for my teenage years and twenties, even into my thirties. Late to bed, late to rise, late for work, sleep in the compactus and hope no-one went looking for files (have you seen those massive metal filing monsters? I could have lost weight in a very dramatic fashion, not that I needed to in those days). Ah yes, the party days. I was known at Uni for stumbling into my 9am lecture, complete in the black lycra and leather (photographic evidence here) and promptly falling asleep in the back row. And snoring.

Marriage, babies, well the broken sleep was not pleasant but the late night/very early morning feeds... pfft, no worries! Was not so impressed with having to wake at a decent time to feed the little buggers again, but followed the rule of when they sleep, you sleep and revelled in the daytime napping.

But my forties seem determined to change me into an early morning person. In the last six months I have awoken when the sun comes up (as early as 4.30am in Queensland) more often than not. Something is going seriously skewiff with my system! I am not a happy morning person, noooooo. I am a very grumpy, mumbling sort of early riser, the type that people avoid as they wander aimlessly around in pyjamas muttering curses under their unbrushed teeth bad breath. To make matters worse I do not drink coffee. Or tea. And it feels unseemly to imbibe coke at 5am, just not right, you know?

Something is very wrong in my world, and I think God is laughing at me! I know my mother definitely is... Payback is a bitch, right?

I Just Knew It,

It is going to be one of THOSE days. Today began at 4am. Boy 2 had stumbled down to me late last night complaining of being ill. He had an incredibly emotionally turmoiled day at school, so I popped him into our bed to cuddle, console and hopefully sleep. He awoke at 4am, and commenced tossing and turning until I could stand it no more. I NEED MY SLEEP.
He is 10 years of age, and prefers his mother not sleep deprived, so before I could utter the "back to your own bed" statement, he ups and mutters it for me. "I better go to my bed, Mum, I know you need your sleep."  Of course, I then lay awake trying to doze but not managing it.

Poor little mite. He is sometimes deeply troubled with social issues. I must admit, I do find it strange that two of Boy 1's friends, who are so patient, supportive and understanding of my oldest Aspie boy and his quirks, can be so vindictive and downright nasty to Boy 2. Now, I know Boy 2 is out there, he is an incredibly quick, smart boy who can be plain hard work, but he is also one of the most compassionate, kind children I have ever seen. When you grow up with a brother on the autism spectrum these traits are sort of pounded into you by life. Thus, when these two rip into him (and I have seen it myself), I am torn. Boy 1 has a very limited social circle and these two are important in his life, but how can I have children in my home who try to intentionally hurt my youngest's feelings? It was one of these children who upset him yesterday. So sad.

Sorry, have drifted off track again, thinking out loud I guess.

Pan back to this morning. Both boys tired, stressed, worn down. Complaining of headaches and other pains. Which now resulted in both boys home for the day. Madmother tired, trying to work from home as I was meant to be at work. On computer. Check e-mails. One of my friends has sent one of those stupid chain letters which make threats of dire consequences if you do not forward it on! FARK! I hate these things and find it insulting that someone thinks I would be dumb enough to buy into it! And I am amazed that someone I know well, and know to have a brain, would be stupid enough to be sucked in! Not my day. And it is only 10am. Arrrrgh!

Sleep deprivation is an evil thing.