Now that I've been a student long enough to take two tests, I have a slightly better idea what I've gotten myself into. And....
AAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!
Today was kind of a melt-down day as I prepared 50 flashcards for my anthropology test on Monday and tried to ignore the economics homework screaming for my attention. I also tried to ignore the piles of laundry, the dying (ok, maybe dead) lawn, the clutter lining every wall of my house and the list of projects I wasn't able to finish over the summer. Biting guilt over my inability to do EVERYTHING made me impatient and snappish and emotionally unstable. Crying at IHOP over my pancakes. Crying on the phone while talking to my mom about her cousin who died after a few months of emotional instability characterized by overwhelming fear. Yelling at Kira for no reason. Yelling at Russ for no reason. Complaining to Jason about virtually everything. Feeling sorry for me, me, me.
The crazy thing is that I'm really enjoying school. I love learning again (not that I ever really stopped.) I absolutely love going to class--especially research methods!--and watching my professors as they share what they know. I love having intelligent conversations about abstract topics that I'm only beginning to grasp. I love that a few of the students have asked me for help--though I'm not sure if they're asking me because I'm a motherly figure or if they perceive me as smart. Though either perception is pretty cool. It fills me in a way that I've missed, and the fact that my grades are good (so far--there is that test on Monday) gives me confidence and hope. I'll have to write about some of the things I'm learning. There are so many things. :)
It's stressful, but worth it. When I see Kira get excited about the thought of going to college, and I see her take responsibility for her increasing load of homework, I think this might all be worth it. When Russ and I can talk about what he's studying, and I can promise to keep my notes from economics so he might have a leg up on his class next semester, I think this might all be worth it. When I think of my earning potential--which will grow exponentially after one year of school--and I realize that our hopes for getting out of debt and setting up a trust fund for Jessica are one step closer to reality, I think this might all be worth it.
I just hope my family feels the same way.
And I need to find a way to deal with stress that doesn't involve crying, yelling, complaining, or feeling sorry for myself when I am truly, truly blessed.
Life Keeps Rolling On
Showing posts with label Elasti-Mom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Elasti-Mom. Show all posts
Friday, September 14, 2012
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Adventures With Elasti-Mom--Sleepless Nights
Elasti-Mom needs her sleep. You can't stretch an elastic all the time and expect it to maintain its stretchiness. Even super elastics need to return to a relaxed state.
When our Jessica was little, sleep was a precious commodity. Rare and relished. Not only did she prefer the night life, but she was a runner back then. She figured out how to unlock the doors and wander out into the night, so we couldn't just roll over and go back to sleep when she decided it was time to play at 3 AM. We had to get up with her and at least be in the same room so we could hear the outside doors creak open. When desperation set in, we tied her closed bedroom doorknob to the doorknob of the room next to hers, so she couldn't open her door and wander through the house. Then, she screamed with her lips pressed against the crack between the floor and her door.
Gradually, as school became more of a force in her life, she learned to go to bed and stay there because exhaustion didn't give her much choice. We celebrated. With lots of wonderful, blissful sleep.
Lately, she has reverted to the night creature she once was. Now that epilepsy is also a factor in her life, this is complicated. She's not a runner anymore, a fact which I thank God for every day, but she is more likely to have seizures at night. Statistically, nine out of ten of her serious, injury-threatening seizures happen at night. Most of them happen right before she goes to bed. That becomes a problem when she waits to go to bed until five in the morning.
She also refuses to go to bed if any of us are up, so staying up so that we're close by if she has a seizure only makes her stay up later. Sometimes, it means we are there when she has a seizure, but sometimes it just means we're stretching out the inevitable. She really doesn't have seizures that often--only two or three times a month--so there are many nights when I fear that she will have a seizure and she doesn't.
Hubby and I moved our bedroom downstairs and moved all of the kids upstairs. A great idea in some respects--we can hear the kids wander around the house at night. We know when our RussMan finishes his homework and finally goes to sleep. We know when our BoBira tries to watch a video on a school night. We hear every creak of the stairs as Jessica goes up and down. We know when Jessica is practicing her OCD behaviors--put down the cup, put down the cup, put down the cup--click after click on the tile counter. Like I said, a good thing in some respects. Not so great in others.
When I know it's been a while since her last seizure, I am on "high alert." Listening for her to fall, or to make the whimpering sounds she makes when a seizure first comes on. Every bump in the night becomes a potential problem, a rush out of bed to catch her and protect her head before she hurts herself. I don't like high alert. It's too stretchy for too long. Even after I fall asleep, the slightest sound wakes me up. And while I'm falling asleep, every little sound is magnified. I'll sit upright in bed and Jason will say, "everything's fine". (He's a night creature too, so it seems like he's always awake. You'd think that would help me relax, but it doesn't always work that way.)
This morning, when I got up at 4:45 to tell Jessica to go to bed--I heard the cup, saw the kitchen light peeking beneath my bedroom door, heard the creak of the floor beneath Jessica's feet--she yelled at me, "No!" Then, she proceeded to drink a 32 ounce glass of water, which means that even if she goes to bed she'll be up to pee in an hour or so. I'm only 15-20 pounds bigger than she is now. I can't exactly pick her up and put her in bed like I used to. If she doesn't want to go to bed, she won't go to bed. Which means I get up and blog for a while.
I think, today, Elasti-Mom will need a nap.
When our Jessica was little, sleep was a precious commodity. Rare and relished. Not only did she prefer the night life, but she was a runner back then. She figured out how to unlock the doors and wander out into the night, so we couldn't just roll over and go back to sleep when she decided it was time to play at 3 AM. We had to get up with her and at least be in the same room so we could hear the outside doors creak open. When desperation set in, we tied her closed bedroom doorknob to the doorknob of the room next to hers, so she couldn't open her door and wander through the house. Then, she screamed with her lips pressed against the crack between the floor and her door.
Gradually, as school became more of a force in her life, she learned to go to bed and stay there because exhaustion didn't give her much choice. We celebrated. With lots of wonderful, blissful sleep.
Lately, she has reverted to the night creature she once was. Now that epilepsy is also a factor in her life, this is complicated. She's not a runner anymore, a fact which I thank God for every day, but she is more likely to have seizures at night. Statistically, nine out of ten of her serious, injury-threatening seizures happen at night. Most of them happen right before she goes to bed. That becomes a problem when she waits to go to bed until five in the morning.
She also refuses to go to bed if any of us are up, so staying up so that we're close by if she has a seizure only makes her stay up later. Sometimes, it means we are there when she has a seizure, but sometimes it just means we're stretching out the inevitable. She really doesn't have seizures that often--only two or three times a month--so there are many nights when I fear that she will have a seizure and she doesn't.
Hubby and I moved our bedroom downstairs and moved all of the kids upstairs. A great idea in some respects--we can hear the kids wander around the house at night. We know when our RussMan finishes his homework and finally goes to sleep. We know when our BoBira tries to watch a video on a school night. We hear every creak of the stairs as Jessica goes up and down. We know when Jessica is practicing her OCD behaviors--put down the cup, put down the cup, put down the cup--click after click on the tile counter. Like I said, a good thing in some respects. Not so great in others.
When I know it's been a while since her last seizure, I am on "high alert." Listening for her to fall, or to make the whimpering sounds she makes when a seizure first comes on. Every bump in the night becomes a potential problem, a rush out of bed to catch her and protect her head before she hurts herself. I don't like high alert. It's too stretchy for too long. Even after I fall asleep, the slightest sound wakes me up. And while I'm falling asleep, every little sound is magnified. I'll sit upright in bed and Jason will say, "everything's fine". (He's a night creature too, so it seems like he's always awake. You'd think that would help me relax, but it doesn't always work that way.)
This morning, when I got up at 4:45 to tell Jessica to go to bed--I heard the cup, saw the kitchen light peeking beneath my bedroom door, heard the creak of the floor beneath Jessica's feet--she yelled at me, "No!" Then, she proceeded to drink a 32 ounce glass of water, which means that even if she goes to bed she'll be up to pee in an hour or so. I'm only 15-20 pounds bigger than she is now. I can't exactly pick her up and put her in bed like I used to. If she doesn't want to go to bed, she won't go to bed. Which means I get up and blog for a while.
I think, today, Elasti-Mom will need a nap.
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