Rollercoaster Ride

I'm tired. But it's against the very core of my being to go to bed before 10 p.m. I thought this week was going to be a breeze because I had nothing to do for the paper. With just the one job, I could come home and do nothing. I could plan a great supper, write, do dishes, help with homework, have time to myself, and take my time.

What was I thinking?

A meeting popped up out of nowhere. Had to arrange the babysitter.

Now a story popped up for tomorrow. I have to drive to another town to interview a lady. What am I going to do with the kids? Then I have to come home and write the article. Not one evening this week has been as peaceful as I imagined. Every day has had insane craziness, much like last week.

Between the job as a paraprofessional with high school special ed. students, my three kids that all have their own unbelievable quirks and issues, being a journalist whose words are in the paper for everyone in the county to read, and having a husband who is at work and cannot help me with hardly anything around here, how can things NOT be crazy?

Hard to believe a few weeks ago I was bored.

Hard to believe the amount of crap that has to go through my head every single day. Hard to believe I am still relatively sane. If I drank alcohol every time I thought about it, I would have a serious problem.

On the positive side (because I'm starting to depress myself), Grace LOVES preschool. She is thriving, she is happy, she is pleasant and funny and adorable, and I can no longer call her "Miss Sassypants." She sings me the songs they learn at school and it makes me squeal in delight. And then she lets me hug her! She has also been sleeping in her own room of her own free will. This is BIG.

I had a lot of fun at work with a boy in a wheelchair who usually drives me batshit. I decided to make it fun and do things he likes. He wanted to wheel around in the gym with the lights off. We did that, then sneaked into the storage room, where he laughed at my attempt to use a hula-hoop. He then wanted to hide from a co-worker, so I stuck him in the corner and hid his chair, and she pretended she couldn't find him. The smile on his face was priceless.

While giving two girls a test in History, I told an embarrassing story about myself in junior high. They loved it so much, I promised them more for every five questions they finished. Then I ran out of stories. I don't have a lot of embarrassing moments.

I realized that part of my problem is that I haven't listened to Bob Dylan for weeks. It's like my body needs a fresh dose of it every so often, or I feel anxious and agitated and I can't figure out why. His voice soothes everything, and I love rediscovering it.

OK, I feel better now. We all need reminding that life is not complete crap. There are always things we can hang onto that make us smile or laugh or just feel really good.

Don't forget to see those things. They are there.

Good night!