Robitussin High

Robitussin High
Mr Robitussin, What in the hell are you selling? I got up at 10 and took 2 tsp of your cough concoction. I don't remeber walking back to the bedroom. Right after the awful taste there was a fabulous black out period. I don't even remeber falling asleep. I woke up at 3 wandering where the hell I was? I stumbled to the bathroom and thought I 'd be able to go back to sleep when I got back in bed, WRONG.

The good news- I am not couhging. The bad news-I am not sleeping. I have cotton mouth something awful and my heart is a little fast. I hate medicine. It always has this lovely effect on me. I am tired I know I should be passed out for 2 more hours.

I figured I'd get up before my tossing and turning woke Brad up, yeah right. I have laid in the bed for an hour and a half with my eyes closed but it ain't working. I am trying to shut down my brain and quit thinking. I am really trying to quit singing the stupid song that is embeded in my head right now. When I wake up at night it's like a record is skipping, playing the same section of song over and over in my mind. Tomorrow it'll be a different one at least.

What is so important that I must be up and thinking? Power Yoga. We have a daycare appointment and will be at the gym at 7:50. I love yoga. Makes me feel good, good and sore, but good. Maybe I will be able to lay down when Turner naps. That would be nice to catch a couple of hours of sleep, but I don't think it'll happen. I can't sleep in the day time. My eye lids are too thin. Even a little bit of light wakes me up, much less the noon day sun.

Turner is the same way. He is a very light sleeper. Brad has to park his truck on the street instead of in the driveway so it doesn't wake Turner up when he leaves to go to work. I can't just open the door and check on him either. Any noise out of the ordinary and his head pops up. I hate this for him. I know what lies ahead and it's not a lot of peaceful nights.

I got this from my dad. He can't sleep for crap either. He got it from his mom who would sit up at night worrying about ziplock bags. Why couldn't I have gotten the amazingly thick healthy hair gene?

I woryy that I am passing some of my bad habbits to Turner too. To me they're not bad, rather annoying. I am a little OCD. I have rules for life, dressing, eating, just about anything, you name it and I have some preconcieved notion of how it "should be". I am not a clean freak. But when I clean I am freaky about it. I stripped the floors yesterday. Yes the same floors that I scrubbed while on my hands and knees last weekend. But it wasn't good enough they needed to be cleaner. Turner cried b/c I wouldn't let him wear latex gloves, he cried b/c he couldn't come in the kitchen, and he cried b/c he couldn't help clean.

Now I know that most of this is just him wanting to do what Mommy's doing. But I worry, it's what I'm good at. Turner picks up his clothes and puts them in the dirty clothes basket. We wash our hands after going potty and before eating or touching food. He knows the system of the pantry and what food goes in what space on which shelf. None of these are bad things. I think being organized makes life easier. I also know that I organize my closet to go from sleevless to long sleeve, with a whole system of color arrangement and placement according to the style of the garment. Yes, I can tell when I am a complete nut job. I spent an hour not too long ago doing this whole "closet craziness" in Brad's closet. Everything re-hung to face the same direction, sorted into a work side and a not work side, colors grouped together, all pants and jeans refolded, belts rolled up and put in their basket, and shoes clean and in each of their spots. Oh, what a good mood I was in for a week. I know technically I could just hang things where ever and it would be OK, but the thought of it makes me want to hurl.

Now I watch my craziness in a different way. I don't want to make Turnr OCD. Nobody likes a cleaning Nazi. But I am also aiming to make him the world's best grown man, and if he chooses best husband. Hey, if he can put his dirty clothes in the hamper before his second birthday he is light years ahead of his father.