I have no other title to call this post other than the above, but what it's really about is my mind.
My mind is shot. Tim delicately told me last night that I've been repeating myself for a while. I'll tell him something and then tell him again later. And while this might be true, I have to admit I doubt it a bit since he isn't all that great at remembering stuff all the time either.
I blame it on the mag. That stuff has really messed up my memory. I was asking Tim the other day who came to see me in my room at the hospital after the c-section. I only remember Gloria Pittman, Holly, Jess, mom, dad, Christie.... I could only see a few feet in front of my face. I'm not kidding. I was so out of it! When I asked Tim what happened, he just started to laugh. Apparently I tried to talk and he had to fill in all the details, and then I just started, um, barfing. Yes. Nasty.
And since the mag, I can't remember anything nor can I focus on anything. I bet my blog posts make no sense. Maybe it's sleep deprivation. Where I used to need to do two things at once or I'd be bored, now I can't help but do twenty things at once. I'll walk through the house to get something and get distracted by three things along the way! That's ADD, baby, but the problem is, there is nothing NOTHING I can do about it. I refuse to take any drugs for it, or even go see a psychiatrist.... but I really am having a serious problem.
Thankfully my impluse control is beginning to come back. There was a while there where I was seriously worried about myself. I was wanting and almost doing things like setting things on fire in the shower just to see what it was like. No, I'm not a nine year old boy, but I sure felt like it!
I haven't experienced any depression. I haven't had time. I might be able to make time for that after I find time to teach the boys to read. Hey, I was proud of myself that I actually sat down today and read them a story.
Right now everyone in the house is sick but me. Christie mentioned getting together on my facebook, and I tried to comment, but something didn't work and I lost focus before I could finish the comment, but the gist was, everyone is sick. Except me. Ilse is so sick, Tim is dead on his feet, the boys are tired and sick..... there is snot on everyone but me. And I cannot stress enough the importance of handwashing, although, if they all had understood that before now, we would not be in this position.
Handwashing! It saves your sanity.
I love my little family. I love helping people and getting things done. I love a clean kitchen and I love it when my husband doesn't come to me at 11 at night and tell me he doesn't have clean pants for tomorrow. He did have them, they were just buried under everything that has ended up in Ilse's pack n play.
My favorite thing to do right now is walk into Ilse's lovely room and sit on her chair. The floor is clean and everything is dusted and properly put away.
And then my least favorite thing to do is compare Ilse's room's cleanliness to the boys' room-- which I have not vacuumed in a scandalous amount of months. Actually, I haven't since they moved in there when I was pregnant with Ilse. Mom has, but I seriously don't think I have. And their dressers are covered in dust. But the boys are happy. They have their toys and their family. And they are too short to see the evidence on the dresser tops of their mother's shortcomings.
Eventually everything will come together. Tim and I have decided not to get back into fostering until our lives are in order. When I can get a nice amount of sleep during the proper hours at night, and when Tim is not so exhuasted at work, and when I can sit with the boys and teach them things at the table instead of doing it in the parking lot while waiting for Tim to get out of work..... then we'll foster/adopt. And while my heart aches not to be doing it now, I don't think anyone would thank me for adding to our issues.
Now I'm going to try to get back to our finances.... yes, this blog post was a distraction. :)