04/20/2007: "The Way It Is"

6:00 am: Radio comes on. NPR news gently wakes you with some sort of horrifying report from Darfur, Virginia, or your own neighborhood. Press snooze bar.

6:08 am: Press snooze bar.

6:16 am: Press snooze bar.

6:24 am: Snooze, snooze, snooze.

6:31 am: Alright, alright. I'll get up. You don't have to be pushy about it.

6:32 am: Step on dog, who is loyally spread out at side of bed. Apologize profusely and point out to dog that we've been doing this for some time now and that lately he's not been getting out of the way during endless nightly potty runs and other stumbling in the dark ventures. An improvement in this area would be nice.

6:35 am: After running brush through lovely new haircut that stands up to several nights sleep, washing face and hands, brushing teeth, and ninety-fourth potty run since midnight, get dressed. Options include maternity shirt with long sleeves, maternity shirt with short sleeves, maternity shirt that might show too much cleaveage and maternity shirt that you wore once but which has a stain on it already, of fucking course. Because of limited selection, make it out of bedroom in 5 minutes flat.

6:40 am: Bleed self to find out fasting blood sugar number. Thank goodness it's in range.

6:41 am: Set up to measure out insulin. Roll bottle between palms and begin to stick needle through rubber stopper.

6:42 am: Get the right kind of insulin. Wonder why the daytime insulin and the nighttime insulin need to look identical. What is the point of making this harder than it already is?

6:43 am: Make breakfast. 2 eggs and half a toasted English muffin. Also some diet root beer because milk is off limits and straight water first thing in the morning is gross.

6:52 am: Finish breakfast and pack lunch. More eggs anyone?

6:55 am: Go to bathroom. Again.

7:00 am: Kiss Dave goodbye, pat dog on head. Head out the door.

7:01 am: Return for blood sugar test kit that was left on kitchen counter. Head out the door.

7:02 am: Return for lunch that you just packed. Head out the door.

7:03 am: Return for sunglasses. Blame the baby for this lack of brain cells. Head out the door.

7:20 am: Arrive at work. Putter around getting room ready and making last minute changes to lesson plans.

7:45 am: Test blood sugar.

8:02 am: Go to bathroom. Again.

8:25 am: Students arrive. Corral them and instruct them for the 142nd time on how to start the day ("Mouths closed, books out, listening to announcements please"). Know that it is the 142nd time you've said this because it is the 142nd day of school.

8:28 am to 9:58 am: Teach, teach, teach. Wonder if anyone is learning anything because of glazed looks. Teach harder. Need to go to bathrooom from 8:32 am on.

9:59 am - 10:47 am: Prep period. Eat snacks. Wish you could go to sleep because exhaustion is really getting to you. Go to bathroom. Again. And again. Try to fit in all bathroom runs for the day during prep. Know you will fail.

10:53 am - 12:25 pm: Teach more. Try to remember everything you said the first time around and say it again to this second class. Wonder why you don't just videotape your morning lesson and use the VCR as a technological aid.

12:25 pm - 1:01 pm: Go to bathroom. Eat lunch, under duress. Hate eggs more by the second.

1:06 pm - 2:35 pm: More teaching. Did you ever think you had so much wisdom to impart? Sadly, you do not, but you have to fake it. Need to go to bathroom. Try to ignore it. Fail.

1:52 pm: Realize you forgot to take your post-lunch blood sugar. Try not to swear out loud. Succeed.

2:25 pm: Interrupt great classroom discussion about slavery to take goddamn blood sugar. Try to be nonchalant about this. Give students a paragraph of notes to copy before sticking yourself. Fail to be discrete enough and suffer through blood test with 32 sets of eyes on your bleeding digits. Avoid sarcasm when class smart-aleck asks your number (he doesn't have any idea what it means, he just wants to distract everyone). Do not give evil eye to squeamish girl who "Ewwwwww"s loudly when you put your blood soaked thumb in your mouth.

2:35 pm: Resist urge to physically throw students out of classroom when the bell rings. Particularly nice student who needs to use phone and sweet student who is interested in your weekend plans. Go to bathroom. Again.

2:36 pm - 2:44 pm: Wait impatiently for it to be 2:45 pm so you can leave.

2:45 pm: Leave.

3:00 pm: Return home. Wonder whether to collapse on couch or get afternoon snack first. Try to do both at once. Fail. Eat snack (hello, pita bread! Long time, no see. Except for the long time part). Go to bathroom.

3:04 pm: Collapse on couch. Stare at television with glassy eyes. Mumble something about your day to husband who is trying to reach out and connect to you. This is a nice thing, do not shut him down.

3:06 pm: "STOP TRYING TO TALK TO ME! I AM EXHAUSTED!"

3:07 pm: "I am soooooo sorry. That was hormones."

3:10 pm: Snnnnoooooorrre

5:30 pm - 5:45 pm: Wake up. Go to bathroom. Eat protein laden dinner. Ponder an after-dinner walk, which would be good for you and for your numbers.

5:46 pm: Screw walk. Sit on couch.

6:30 pm: Take blood sugar. Pray that missed walk will not be your downfall tonight. Breathe sigh of relief when number is within range. (Alternate: Curse self when number is above range.)

6:31 pm - 9:30 pm: Watch TV. Work hard to follow plots. Fail several times. Wonder how many brain cells you really have lost because this is not the most complicated "My Name is Earl" you've ever seen. Go to... oh you know.

9:31 pm: Eat. Another. Egg. Or maybe a slice of cheese. Nothing with carbs shall pass this way again. Try not to sigh dejectedly.

9:35 pm: Measure out nighttime insulin and give self injection. Nick a vein this time for good measure. Bleed a little. Watch, fascinated, as bruise immediately begins. Think of self as delicate flower. Feel a little sorry for your poor bruised, stretch-marked abdomen.

9:36 pm: Yank t-shirt over messy abdomen because husband appears to be watching you. Feel stupid that husband's attention on abdomen makes you feel self-conscious. Justify self by remembering that although abdomen has never been a work of art, these days it looks more like the work of a madman. Nobody should be subjected to that.

9:40 pm: Brush teeth, take shower. have several Braxton-Hicks contractions in shower which make leg-shaving a laughable thought. Consider asking husband to shave your legs.

9:41 pm: Recover from laughing fit. Husband and you in shower! At same time! HHHAhahahahahaaaa! That would never work! Too much messy abdomen for that!

9:42 pm: Damn abdomen.

9:52 pm: Fall into bed. Watch DVD for a while. Assume sleep will come soon.

10:12 pm: Toss and turn. Feel baby begin aerobics class. Assume sleep will come... soonish.

10:22 pm: Wonder if baby is the next Jane Fonda. Stop moving, baby!

10:31 pm: Wheeeen wiiiilll the baaaaby stooooop daaancing? Go to bathroom since you're awake anyway.

10:45 pm: Roll onto back. Know that this is not best for baby but also know that it generally quiets her down.

10:47 pm: Feel guilty about being on back. Roll onto side. Baby resumes Flashdance routine.

10:50 pm: Baby is a maniac, maniac on the floor. And she's dancing like she's never danced before.

10:55 pm: Fall asleep.

11:20 pm: Fattest cat in house joins you in bed. Know this because he wants to cuddle. RIGHT NOW.

1:22 am: Wake up to go to the bathroom.

3:10 am: Wake up to go to the bathroom.

5:20 am: Wake up to go to the bathroom.

6:00 am: Radio comes on. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off and do it all over again.

Replies: 1 Comment - Go read it!

on Tuesday, April 24th, Jeannie said

I love you, and you will get through this, and the baby will be born, and you will not have to pee as much, and you will be able to eat again, and you will never sleep again. Call mother often to watch baby so you can sleep. Trust me on this one.

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04/20/2007: "The Way It Is"