Just Another Day

There are mornings when I wake up and can’t believe I’m the same person who got into the bed just a few hours before.  I feel creeky and weighted from the stress of my sleep.

Yesterday I had a plan: housework, haircut for my son, grocery store, home, laundry, cook a little dinner for my husband, then call it a day and relax with my book.

A friend dropped by with some yummy Mexican food so I got to check dinner prep off of my list.  Thank you, Lisa!  I threw in a load of laundry first thing in the morning, so that got done too.  And then my progress train began to derail.

I decided I had time to quickly call my son’s dentist to set up a long overdue appointment.  Shouldn’t take more than a minute or two, right?  Wrong.

Apparently my son isn’t covered for pediatric dentistry anymore.  What?  I guess CIGNA Dental thinks my autistic seven year old is all grown up.

Suffice it to say I had to make a few more calls.  And fume.  And steam.  And resign myself to the fact that our healthcare system stinks as always.  It’s still not resolved.  Stress.

Despite the time sucking nature of the day’s first call, I was pleased to see that we might still have enough of the afternoon left to get the haircut and run to the store.  Then the phone rang.

A city employee was calling to tell me that my husband’s car was parked in the middle of a clean-up zone and they needed him to move it.  Apparently something had spilled on the street and there were fifteen utility trucks and a bunch of workers there eager to take care of it.  My husband’s car was right in the middle and they couldn’t proceed without doing it harm.  When could we come?

I’m not sure we were closer to the car than my husband was, but somehow it seemed illogical to make him bike back from work in the middle of his day.  I loaded my son in the van and we left to move the car.  Progress train completely derailed.  More stress.

My son was hungry and didn’t understand why we weren’t doing what I told him we would do.  He got sand in his eyes at the clean-up site and he seemed upset when I made him switch from the van to the car and back to the van after only a 100 yard ride. More stress.

I treated him to McDonald’s on the way home and it seemed to cheer him up at first, but as usual he ate next to nothing.  Ten dollars in the toilet and he didn’t want to play long either.

We made it to the store quickly afterward, but he was at the end of his rope and wouldn’t cooperate.  He wriggled from my hand and kept darting away from me in the parking lot.  Danger.  And more stress.

We settled down a bit at home and I even got back on track with a little housework and some other phone calls, but I never managed to relax.

My husband came home and seemed distracted.  He was likely just thinking about his own writing since he’s a blogger too, but I couldn’t tell for sure and he wasn’t talkative, so I assumed the worst.  More stress.

I ate dinner way past my normal mealtime and sent my son to bed horrendously late.  By the time I lay my head on the pillow I was tense from the day’s events and it was evident in my sleep.

Today, I woke with a headache and knew I had clenched my teeth all night and strained my ears listening for my son.  My back is aching thanks to my evening meal.  My legs are sore and heavy because I tried all night not to disturb my husband with tossing and turning.

And the rest of me?  Well, the rest of me is tired from my night of sleep, because when I’m stressed, I dream and the dreams aren’t always good.

This morning I don’t see the me that went to bed.  As for this other woman in the morning mirror, I’ve seen her before and I wish she’d go away.  The days I wake up refreshed are so few and far between.  I cherish them when they happen and I try for them always, but it seems they’re seldom to be.

My apologies for the long winded post, but I’m fatigued and not good at editing today.

One thought on “Just Another Day

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s