My Heart is Flying to California

So rarely do I get to see my son (a U.S. Marine stationed near San Diego) and his family, that when I do, I get so excited at the prospect of seeing everybody that I can barely sleep. I was up practically the whole last night.

I'm too excited about the trip, I guess. I will be able to spend some time with my sister before I head north to Midway Airport, so I'm excited about that as well.

All of this comes after a much needed break, where my head is still throbbing after two weeks of providing 11-hour a day daycare with a body that is completely exhausted from hypervigilance associated with two little boys who fight for supremacy, one of whom cannot control himself from hitting everybody and everything in his path. I follow him around the house gathering all of the toys he flings around, repeating my requests to keep them in one room and admonishing him for flinging them around the babies. 

If I could contain him in one room, I would, but my attention has to be shared with four, and one time this week, five, other kids. When I tell everybody to clean up the mess made mostly by him, everybody pitches in and he jumps on the couch for a time-out, knowing in advance that he will refuse to help clean and that the ultimate consequence for that action is a time-out. He's not stupid. 

Fortunately, he accommodates me during "quiet time" but the rest of the time is so exhausting I can barely make it through the day.

So why couldn't I sleep last night? Who knows. It makes no sense. You would think that if you were exhausted, your body would recognize your need for sleep and accommodate you. Mine fights me. Gotta remember to bring the taxes I never had time to complete. Gotta pack. Gotta make sure I remember my Advil Migraine medicine. Gotta remember to pack some shoes. Don't forget to print out the online ticket for Southwest Airlines.

At one point, I thought to myself, this is ridiculous – just go write these things down. But they came to me one at a time, so I would jump out of bed, write down "taxes," go back to bed, jump up...you get the picture. I can't help but sabotage myself. Maybe the problem is that my heart is already in California and my body can't sleep without it.

So while I await 7:55 a.m. so I can print out my boarding pass, I am finishing my blog. Time to set the timer.

California, here I come!